The Farthest Road
by Koala Kitty
Summary: Ranma and Akane, newlyweds now with some serious. . .bedroom problems, go to China to settle a feud with Mousse and Shampoo. A continuation of MoC. [complete]
1. No College for You

Okay, okay. I got bored, all right? I was going to take a break from writing fanfics, and then there was a big party in my friend's room and everyone else was playing video games and all I had was a computer with NO GAMES and NO INTERNET. . . which means it is a typewriter with some nice extras.  
  
In any case, for this to truly make sense I suppose you'd have to read A Matter of Choice. All my fics run in the same storyline, and this one comes right after that one. Well, a year after. This occurs after the end of the series, and doesn't take any of the OAV's or movies into account. Mostly because I haven't seen them. They're just about to graduate from high school. Everything else SHOULD be in there . . . hope you like it.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Akane arched her back, moaning a little. She could feel the steady rise and fall of Ranma's chest on her stomach. She opened her eyes and looked down at him. His head was resting just above her breasts, on the flat plane of her sternum, tucked under her chin. She smiled and ran a hand through his thick black hair, falling loose in waves over her own shoulder.  
  
Her muscles were still sore from the revels of the night before. Ranma, in order to celebrate the end of their first year as a married couple, had taken her out dancing. She couldn't pretend to be great at that sort of thing, but Ranma. . . being Ranma. . . was of course a good dancer. Not great, but entirely passable. The trick was getting him to actually dance, he tended to hide at their small table on the edge of the dance floor. She giggled as she remembered the startled faces of the other dancers as she and Ranma swept past them all, the very image of seriousness at first and then reeling around, drunk on laughter. She had no idea when that actual change occurred, it was at some point after the first glass of rice wine and before the fourth. After having made a general mess of the dance floor and the surrounding tables, they'd stumbled home to the dojo. And that was where the real exertion had begun.  
  
In past year, Ranma had trained her to become better than Ukyo. Better than Kuno. In fact, she was now almost as good as him. It had been a learning process for both of them, he was learning how to teach and she was learning how to control her anger enough to make it a weapon. He'd insisted on the training, not that she'd objected, because, as he said, he couldn't be around her all the time to protect her. He seemed desperately afraid of losing her.  
  
Last night, however, had not been purely training. In fact, for the last three months they hadn't been able to manage a single session that remained purely training.  
  
It began that way. For the first two hours all they'd done was throw blows at each other. But then, with a low growl, he'd picked her up in his arms and kissed her, hard. When their training had first begun turning into kisses, she'd fought him, or he'd fought her, depending on who began the more serious pursuits. Now, however, she'd simply kissed him back, her hands pulling his body towards her. Somehow, she couldn't quite remember how, they'd ended up against the wall of the dojo, with his knee between her thighs and her hands untying his black ponytail. And at that point, of course, the panda decided to see who was making so much noise in the dojo.  
  
They'd disentangled themselves, of course, and Ranma had chased his transmorgified father away. With smiles of regret, they'd simply taken their baths and gone to bed, giving up training as a lost cause and. . . other things as far more lost than that. Once one person interupted, there were always bound to be more. That, at least, hadn't changed in the last year. What had changed was that every night, Ranma lay down his head to sleep in Akane's bed. And everyone assumed they were doing things in said bed that would, eventually, lead to an heir to the Saotome-Tendo school.  
  
Of course, everyone was wrong. Despite how increasingly appealing that idea was, Akane and Ranma had never. . . well, not that they hadn't been close . . . but despite Happosai and Nodoka's advice on how to acomplish the deed, they'd never done more than kiss. Not much more, anyway. If any of the fiance's knew the marriage hadn't been consummated, the trouble would have started all over again, so they just let everyone assume. Of course, if everyone knew the marriage had been a sham to start with, they would have more problems than that.  
  
A year ago, Ranma and Akane had come up with the idea of pretending to elope to take some of the pressure off. Things had appeared to backfire for a bit, when their parents had made them sleep in the same room, when Ukyou had stopped talking to them, when they'd sent them on that honeymoon. . . but some good had come of the idea. Shampoo, Mousse and Cologne went back to China, the Kunos moved on to other pursuits, and Ryouga left town. Of course, some of those "good effects" had some bad consequences. When Mousse and Shampoo went back to China, the old ghoul forced them to get married. There were, after all, younger sisters who couldn't get married until Shampoo had, and once Ranma was spoken for. . . Of course, in order to ensure he was the man Shampoo had to marry, Mousse had to take some desperate actions. He'd had to fight the other suitor. . . over the flooded pools of Jusenkyo. He'd won, but he'd fallen in, and become a monster. In an effort to appease his new, demonically cold wife, he'd returned to Japan to defeat Ranma. In his new form, he'd suceeded. And Ranma, for the last year, had remained unable to forgive himself for losing.  
  
Of course, a year sleeping in Akane's bed, akward as it was at first, had done wonders for his outlook on life, martial arts, and the relative importance of things. The "training" hadn't hurt much either.  
  
"Urhhhhhhm," Ranma moaned, moving his head a little. There was a time when Akane would have killed him for sleeping draped across her. Of course, the first morning they'd woken up with her sprawled across him had pretty much killed all her grounds for that argument. Still. . . she blushed as his head moved lower. Resting his head on her sternum was one thing, but. . . She shook him gently.  
  
"Ranma, wake up," she murmered. He groaned and rolled over. . . right on to the floor. Once his head hit the hard surface, he jolted awake. With a yelp, he jumped to his feet and looked around. When the only person in view was Akane, he turned his glare on her.  
  
"What was that for?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head. Akane rolled her eyes.  
  
"It's not MY fault that you rolled out of bed. Go get dressed already. It's almost time for school!" she huffed, sitting up and swinging her legs off the bed. Ranma grumbled something and went off to take a bath. Akane watched him with a smile. It was good to know that even after a year of acting like a couple, some things never changed. She stood and went to join Ranma in the baths.  
  
Before Cologne left, she gave Ranma a final gift. In an effort to preserve as much of Shampoo's honor as possible, she tried to kill the girl Ranma. Naturally, the only way to do that was to douse him in water of the Spring of Drowned Man. . . of which she happened to have a jar. She'd planned on using it to blackmail him into marrying Shampoo but then when word came that Akane and Ranma had eloped. . . well. Unfortunately, the water hadn't quite had the desired effect. It reversed the curse so that "he" turned into a "she" with hot water instead of cold water. Akane considered hopping in the tub with Ranma. . . but decided against it. Even though they'd both be girls, he'd still be getting a look at her real body. She sniffed at her armpits speculatively, then sighed and walked into the bathroom anyway. She hadn't taken the time for a bath the night before, and she regretted it.  
  
Ranma was already a girl in the steaming baths when Akane opened the door. She looked up, her red hair hanging in damp streamers in her face, and blinked in confusion at Akane. Akane blushed and, ducking her head, went straight for the shower. She got a rag wet and ran it up and down her arms, up her legs in the long nightgown, and then paused. She could either get naked, or begin to scrabble in an undignified manner under her nightgown.  
  
"Jeez, Akane, why don't you just get in the tub? It ain't like I've never seen you," Ranma muttered. Akane blushed, and turned to glare at Ranma. The redhead was watching her from the tub, covered in suds.  
  
"Some of us aren't so free with their bodies," Akane said loftily, holding the rag loosely in her hand. She looked at Ranma in the tub, somewhat confused. She certainly didn't want to be naked. . . or undignified. . . or stinky. What a conundrum.  
  
With a sigh, Ranma ducked her head under the water and then stood, free of suds. She stepped out of the tub and walked over to the shower. Akane stepped back, blushing, as Ranma picked up the moving showerhead and sprayed herself with cold water.  
  
He smiled at Akane and then, without bothering to put on a towel, walked out of the bathroom. He paused at the door and turned to look at Akane, who was blushing furiously.  
  
"You'd be better off if you were more free with your body," he observed. With a nonchalant wave of his hand, he dismissed her and the bathroom. "All yours," he said. Akane watched him close the door, fighting to keep her eyes on his shoulders. She could still remember when he hadn't been all that free with himself, either. She supposed all that time spent taking blatant advantage of his girl half made him numb to modesty. Shaking her head, she stripped and hopped into the tub.  
  
Bathed, dressed, and STILL sore in her hip muscles from all the side- kicks she threw yesterday, Akane ran to school with Ranma. He'd taken to running on the sidewalk beside her, instead of on the fencerail.  
  
"We're gonna be late because you just had to take a separate bath!" Ranma growled. Akane glared at him.  
  
"Oh, like it matters. No one's doing anything but study for entrance exams," she replied. It was true enough. They were in the last week of high school, and their teachers had forgone the formality of finals in order to give the seniors time to study for college enrtance exams. Of course, for those among their classmates who weren't going to college, that just meant a lot of free time.  
  
School was boring. Worse than boring, it was a waste of time. Ranma stared out of the windows of his classroom, ignoring the silent scratchings of pencils behind him. Hinako-sensei had announced a study hall, and for once the students of Furinkan High were actually studying when they were supposed to. He was bored out of his mind. He half wished he had entrance exams to study for, just so he'd have something to do.  
  
A piece of paper slid in front of his eyes, attatched to a pair of pale, slender fingers. He looked down a slender arm to see Akane smiling at him. He looked back to the piece of paper.  
  
::Permission to go to the library?" he thought. He looked back at Akane, who winked at him. His face broke out into a grin. With a smile and a wave at Hinako-sensei, they strode out of the library. In the way of teenagers, they avoided the library completely and went straight to the roof.  
  
The air was warm, with a strong wind blowing across the top of the building. Akane skipped out onto the roof, putting the embarassments of the morning far from her mind. He watched her with a small smile on his face.  
  
"Aren't you going to thank me for saving you from study hall?" Akane said lightly. She leaned against the rail, the wind ruffling her hair and the hem of her skirt.  
  
"Thanks," he said unceremoniously. "You caught me just as I was wishing I actually had studying to do."  
  
"You're kidding!" she said, a real expression of shock crossing her face. "You? Study?"  
  
"Hey, it has been known to happen," he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Anyway, don't you think about it sometimes? What it would be like to actually go to college?"  
  
"Ah..." Akane stammered, and looked away. The thought had crossed her mind. "I don't really see much point. I mean, it isn't as though I'd get a great job if I went to college, I'd probably end up as some underpaid office lady. Besides, I like martial arts. I want to take over the dojo, make it something respectable," she said quietly. She glanced up at Ranma, who was eyeing her thoughtfully. When she turned her gaze to him, he started and looked away himself.  
  
"I. . . well, I was just sort of thinking about it. I mean, the whole reason we wanted to fake the marriage was so they'd give us room to make some choices, right? And we're still gonna end up taking over the dojo and getting married. . ." his voice trailed off.  
  
"Hey, you're the one who said you wanted to make the marriage a reality eventually. Remember? When our dads sent us on that silly honeymoon?" she smiled, nudging him. Instead of the smile she'd expected, he looked right through her with a pained expression on her face. ::He doesn't. . . want to take it back? Tell them it was all a sham and go our separate ways?:: Her blood seemed to flow out of her body, leaving her cold and tingling. He couldn't, could he?  
  
"Yeah, I remember. That was right after Mousse beat me, wasn't it?" he muttered. Akane blinked at him. "It's just that. . . well, I was all set to be a martial artist for the rest of my life, do nothin' but train and all that, but then that little pissant beat me. . ." he clenched his fists. She reached out a hand to lay it on his shoulder, but dropped it before it reached him.  
  
"Well, in his current monstrous form, it's no wonder. He took you by surprise, is all. You were expecting a duck, and you got. . . that THING," she shuddered at the thought of Mousse's new cursed form. "So you lost one fight. You beat him a thousand times, one fight isn't such a big deal. And anyway, you hate school," she pointed out. Ranma shrugged and leaned against the pole next to her. His expression worried Akane, he seemed so serious. . . Ranma was never serious for long.  
  
"You know," she said, clearing her throat loudly. "There's no rule that says we can't go to China and settle this." Ranma's head snapped up and he stared at her. "I mean, we'd have to get summer jobs and save up over the summer, but we could do it. It's not like we have anything better to do," she said, smiling encouragingly. Ranma stared at her for a moment, then grabbed her by the shoulders, so fast he made her jump.  
  
"You mean it? I mean, I'd be gone for a while, but I'd be back real soon and you're far enough in your training that you'll be fine for a few months. You're the best, Akane!" he grinned, pulling her into a hug. She pushed him off, roughly.  
  
"Did I say YOU should go to China? No!" she yelled. After all those months talking about training her so he wouldn't have to protect her so much, and at the first suggestion he runs off to find Mousse. . .Ranma released her in confusion.  
  
"Then what did you mean?"  
  
"I said WE should go to China! The both of us! Or are you so eager to get rid of me?" she snarled. He blinked at her.  
  
"No. . .I. . . that isn't what I meant. I meant. . . how can we go to China together? I mean, it's not like you haven't come a long way in training, and you're still strong as an ox, but you're still a girl and camping out is rough. . ." he trailed off when he realized he was only making her madder. He put a hand on each of her shaking shoulders, trying to stave off destruction.  
  
"Akane. . ."  
  
"You IDIOT! We are BOTH going to China and you are going to beat Mousse so you can STOP MOPING ABOUT IT!" she yelled. He took a deep breath and released her shoulders, deciding it was best to keep some distance.  
  
"Okay, okay. You win. We'll both go to China. Hey, everyone thinks we're married anyway, right? Might as well."  
  
Let me know what you think. Like I said, it is a continuation of another story which I felt simply HAD to be told as another story entirely. . . eh. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 


	2. Akane's Summer Job

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. And unless you're Rumiko Takahashi they don't belong to you either. And if you ARE Takahashi, you need to write a better ending to this series pronto so the rest of us don't feel compelled to.  
  
I warn you, there is some citrus-y stuff in here. This is the result of a frustrating day, please don't kill me for it.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
"Honestly, Hibiro!" Akane sighed, looking in dismay at the most recent white spot on her dress. Hibiro, for his part, simply gurgled happily and clapped his pudgy little hands. A dribble of drool rolled down his chin. Akane, with a sigh of resignation, wiped the dribble away with a corner of her long, yellow skirt. It had been yellow once, anyway. It was probably ruined now. . .  
  
"I ought to have warned you about that one," Amara grinned, gesturing towards the baby on Akane's lap. "He's a spitter. Got a horrible stomach, that one," she said, with an evil glint in her eye. Akane glared at her coworker and then at the child in question. He'd looked harmless enough. ::I guess I just haven't been working here long enough to know which kids have which bad habits,:: she thought to herself. Normally, working at the nursery was much more fun than working in a restaurant could have been. The kids were genuinely cute and it made her feel she was doing something worthwhile. On the other hand, there were the days when she walked home smelling like diapers and vomit. . . that wasn't terribly pleasant.  
  
And then there were the other women working there. A few were young women like herself, but most were mothers with grown children. And all they ever talked about was birthing and sex. Akane figured she knew more about pregnancy than she'd ever wanted to know. Amara was the worst. She was probably more perverted than Happosai, but then she actually had a husband to exercise her perversion with, instead of taking it out on the world.  
  
"Vomiting little brats need love too," Akane cooed, tickling Hibiro's feet. He giggled and squirmed.  
  
"Ugh, I thought that Jumonji would NEVER go to sleep!" Subaru sighed, laying the baby in question down in a small cradle by the wall. She regarded the floor around her with a raised eyebrow, watching the ten of twelve infants in the room roll around her. She clucked her tongue at one of them, removing a torn piece of paper from his hand. Then she turned her dark eyes toward Akane, a maliciously gleaming.  
  
"You'd better get used to it, Akane. That husband of yours is so ornery, I bet he was a spitter. And it's genetic," she smiled evilly. Akane laughed nervously. Just two weeks before, she and Subaru graduated from Furinkan High School. Subaru was the one who'd suggested the Omitawa Nursery as a summer job. Some days. . . she wasn't sure Subaru had done her any favors.  
  
Her ex-classmate was viewing her trim waistline appraisingly. Akane gulped. She could just feel one of those conversations coming.  
  
"I don't think it will be long before Akane's cursed with a little bundle of joy," she said, considering. Akane groaned out loud, which only encouraged them.  
  
"Not too long. Young healthy kids like that? I'm surprised you aren't pregnant yet, dear. Don't tell me your Ranma is shy? A handsome, strong man like that? It would be a waste!" Amara winked at Akane. At the growing blush on the young woman's cheeks, she chuckled. "Don't worry, little lass. Once he's grown a spine and a few balls, he'll be just fine. I bet once you get going, you never stop," she smiled encouragingly. Akane blinked at her.  
  
"Come on, can't we talk about anything else?" Akane asked, putting Hibiro down on the floor. He scooted away from her on his belly, gasping and pulling with all his feeble might. Subaru and Amara looked at each other and grinned.  
  
"Did I tell you what happened to my dog?" Amara asked. Akane shook her head. :: Animals are safe,:: she thought. She thought wrong.  
  
"Well, the poor thing nearly choked to death! It seems Kano and I left one of his cock rings lying around, and you know how elastic those things are. Poor Inu-chan just gulped it right down. I hope it passes, I'd really hate to explain that to the vet!" Amara said, laughing. Akane blinked at her, confusion passing over her face.  
  
"Wh. . . what's a cock ring?" she asked, not quite sure she wanted the answer.  
  
_________________----------------------________________  
  
"Come on in!" Ukyou yelled as she heard the door opening. She flipped out three more okonomiyaki to the customers waiting around her grill. She looked up with a smile to greet the newcomer, but her smile wilted almost instantaneously.  
  
"Heya, Ucchan. You, ah, couldn't use a new waitress, could you?" Ranko asked, toying with her red pigtail. She'd really outdone herself today, she'd even borrowed one of Akane's dresses.  
  
One of her wife's dresses.  
  
"I don't want a waitress," Ukyou said through gritted teeth. "Get out of my shop."  
  
"Ucchan. . ." Ranko whispered, sadly. "I'm sorry, I just. . ."  
  
"DON'T call me that," Ukyou said firmly, her hands shaking. "You made your choice." Ranko took a deep breath.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ukyou. I really am. I never wanted to lose your friendship," she said quietly. "Akane and I just. . ."  
  
"Shut up, will you?" Ukyou hissed. She raised her eyes to meet Ranko's, and the redhead gulped. She'd never seen such. . . pain in Ukyou's eyes before. With a sinking heart, Ranko realized she was the cause of that pain. But there wasn't anything else she could do, unless she wanted to marry Ukyou, and she didn't.  
  
"Goodbye, Ukyou. Sorry," she said softly. With a small wave, she ran out of the shop. And thankfully, it didn't rain. To be changed into a girl while dressed as a boy is one thing. To change into a boy while wearing a dress. . .that was a whole different story. She ran along the sidewalk, eyeing the sky nervously.  
  
::Yet another day, yet another fruitless job search. I guess I'm not all that much more appealing as a girl after all. I can't believe no one wanted to hire me, I'm a little cutie,:: she thought. ::I hope Akane isn't mad. Maybe today will be one of the days she actually LIKES the babies. We'll talk on the way home, I guess.::  
  
________________________---------------------__________________  
  
"Akane! Someone's here to see you!" Amara yelled. Akane swept the baby she'd been playing with on to her hip as she stood. She strode out to the entryway, and was shocked to see Ranko . . . in her dress, no less.  
  
"Hey, you ready to go home?" Ranko smiled, tickling the feet of the baby on Akane's hip. The little child cowered away, hiding her face in Akane's shoulder. Ranko frowned at the babe. "What's with her?"  
  
"Little Hana here is just shy," Akane said, smiling. "She's our last baby, everybody else is gone." She stroked the hair on Hana's head absently, a maternal smile on her face. Ranko felt a tightening in her chest, and her lower regions. That was the cool part about being a girl sometimes, women couldn't always tell his reaction to them. Akane smiling down at Hana made him think about. . .  
  
"You head on home to that big strong man of yours," Amara said sternly, taking Hana from Akane. The little girl whimpered as she exchanged caretakers. "You get started on that plan we talked about."  
  
"Plan?" Ranko asked, somewhat suspicious. Amara laughed.  
  
"Oh, to be sure, a plan. A plan to get that shy husband of hers to give her a little pooping machine," Amara grinned. "You know how men can be, when they've never been with a woman. Shy little ducklings who are just SO unsure of themselves. . . Little Akane here has a real problem with hers. Don't you, dearie?"  
  
"I. . . ah, I. . . think it's time to go home," Akane stammered, turning red. Ranko cocked an eyebrow in her direction, then turned back to Amara.  
  
"This plan of yours sounds like it would be interesting," Ranko said, fighting to keep from reacting too violently. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or go all twitchy.  
  
"Oh, yes. The first thing has to be getting him alone, of course, and comfortable. And then you let things follow their natural course, you know, but a nervous lad would need a bit of help. You know, the hand or maybe the mouth, but Akane here is fairly shy herself so I think that. . ."  
  
"Thank you Amara! I'll see you tomorrow!" Akane shouted, grabbing Ranko by the hand and dragging her outside. She dragged Ranko, at a run, halfway back to the Tendo Dojo.  
  
"You have a PLAN?" Ranko asked, unable to keep her voice down, when they stopped. Akane gave her a pained look.  
  
"It wasn't my idea, okay? Subaru and Amara kept shoving advice on me," she said, still blushing. Ranko looked at her in mild astonishment.  
  
"You people talk about stuff like that with all those kids around?" she asked, her tone incredulous. Akane nodded.  
  
"Well, yeah. I mean, you get any group of women together and they'll either discuss sex or childbirth, most of the time. Especially if they're all surrounded by infants," she informed her so-called husband. "The rooms with toddlers, where most of the older women work, are even worse."  
  
"Glad I'm a guy," Ranko said absently, fidgeting with the skirt of her dress. "Guys don't talk about that stuff."  
  
"Well, maybe that's why women feel the need to share their knowledge, to make up for ignorant men," Akane said bitingly, watching Ranko out of the corner of her eye.  
  
::So they're tellin' her how to seduce me? And this is NORMAL?:: Ranko thought, blinking at Akane.  
  
"I'd take ignorance over perversion any day," Ranko said primly. ::Of course, it might be interesting to see Akane try. She'd probably die of embarrassment before she got anywhere. Hell, I might die of embarrassment.:: An image flashed through her mind of Akane moaning into his neck, her fingers digging into his back as he ran his mouth along her collarbone. . .::Maybe I wouldn't die of embarrassment after all.::  
  
___________________________---------------------- ___________________________  
  
"You're getting faster," Ranma observed, sweat beading on his forehead as he dodged Akane's kicks. She snarled at him and lashed out with her fist, actually catching him on his chest. Her skin made a thick whump against his bare chest. He was showing off, sure, but she'd disappeared into the bathroom as soon as they got home and he loved the look on her face when she saw him training, half-nude, unexpectedly. It was glorious to make her blush. That was probably the reason her coworkers teased her.  
  
"Good thing, too," Akane huffed. He rushed her suddenly, aiming light, soft punches at her head and shoulders. She dodged most of them, but one caught her on the edge of the chin, kocking her head back. She pulled her feet up, falling into a back roll. As she fell, she brought her feet up to strike at his stomach. He stepped to the side, fast as grandma's knitting needles, and back away from the reach of her feet. She rolled back up to her feet with a small grin.  
  
"Bet you'd like to know what Amara said I should do to you," she murmured. Ranma turned bright red, and his eyes grew wide. Seeing the opening, Akane ran toward him and began a whole new attack. Two punches, two good solid punches landed on his arm and stomach before he came completely back to himself.  
  
"That was cheating!" he said hotly. Then he grabbed her wrists, pulling her close to him. "So just what did she say? What are your plans for me, Akane?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. Akane gasped and began blushing furiously.  
  
"I. . . .I, well, I ahem. . ." she stammered. He leaned in close as if to kiss her, coming near enough to feel her breath, warm on his lips. He smiled at the look in her eyes, at the fine trembling around her lips and in her wrists, which felt so very fragile in his hands. Akane, fragile. Riiiiiiight. He stepped backward nonchalantly, releasing her. She stumbled a little, off balance.  
  
When she raised her eyes again, she wasn't trembling anymore. In fact, she looked really, really pissed. She flew at him, her anger harnessed and more deadly than most registered weapons. The fight had begun in earnest.  
  
After almost three hours of hard fighting, Akane fell back into the wall, sweating and huffing. She glared up at Ranma, who was also sweating and huffing, but managing to do it with a modicum of grace.  
  
"I think it's time to call it a night," Ranma said. She nodded.  
  
"I call the bathroom first," she said firmly. He sighed elaborately.  
  
"But you just took a bath earlier today!" he complained. She made a scornful noise deep in her throat.  
  
"YOU weren't covered in baby puke," she pointed out. "In fact, you haven't done much all day. It's not like you have a job yet."  
  
"Hey, job hunting is really, really hard! I went all over Nerima!" he protested.  
  
"Well, since it is your grudge we're going to China to settle, you'd better get a job. Fast. Soon. One that pays well," she ordered, stalking out of the dojo. Ranma glared at her as she left. It wasn't as if he wasn't trying. . .  
  
_________________--------------------------________________  
  
"Sometimes I wish we could go back to the way we were. It was simpler, just fighting and making up, without all this nice mushy stuff," Ranma muttered, sitting on the roof. He stared up at the cloudy summer sky, lost in contemplation.  
  
::I mean, I do love her. I have for a long time. And I'm sure she feels the same way. But it's all just so frustrating! I hate fighting like this. . . wait, no I don't. This kind of fighting is nothing. This is just between us, she hasn't accused me of two-timing or anything like that since this whole fake elopement started. At least now we listen to each other when we fight.::  
  
::I guess the fighting isn't what's frustrating. I think Akane herself is frustrating. I mean, she's always made me feel . . . squirmy in a good way. She's always made my blood rush places its got no business going, well not always. . . for a while now. And she has this effect on me without me having this effect on her. She can't hardly stand for me to see her in her underwear, which isn't fair considering how many times she's seen me . . . and it ain't like I don't know what she looks like. Honestly.::  
  
::Maybe she's afraid of me.:: he thought. He sighed and leaned back, frowning at the thought. Could she be afraid of him? Could she be afraid that he was going to . . . he'd never do such a thing! She TERRIFIED him! And not just the mallets either. Every time they rolled to face each other in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, needing to alleviate the tension with kisses and caresses. . . he felt like his heart was going to burst. She really couldn't be afraid of him, could she?  
  
_______________-----------------------______________  
  
"Akane?" Ranma asked, stepping into the darkened bedroom. He heard a rusling on her bed, and shut the door behind him. Gingerly, he strode over and turned on the lamp on her desk. She was lying on her side, watching him. He took a deep breath and walked over to kneel by the side of her bed. She followed him with big brown eyes.  
  
"You aren't afraid of me, are you?" he asked quietly. He heard a sharp intake of breath from the nondescript lump on the bed.  
  
"Of course I'm not!" she said softly, a hand sliding from under the covers to caress his cheek. Her hand lingered on his smooth, warm skin, sliding back to bury itself in his dark hair. His eyes searched her face, half-hidden in the shadows.  
  
"You act like you think I'm gonna suddenly become some sort of lecherous wolf," he pointed out. She grew very still for a moment.  
  
"I'm sorry, I just. . ." she trailed off. How could she tell him she wasn't afraid of him, but herself? Since the moment they'd met, she'd been afraid that he might turn her into a wild thing, like himself. If she could only show him she wasn't. . .  
  
"Come into bed," she said softly. His head jerked back, and he lost his balance for a moment. "Come into bed!" she said, more insistently. Slowly, he climbed into her bed and lay looking at her, stiffly. She ran a hand through his hair, still damp and loose from his bath, cold. Hesitantly, she moved to join her lips to his. In the moment that they touched, it was as if Ranma were an iceberg consumed in a fire. He melted against her, making small noises at the back of his throat. She pulled him to her, and they rolled together, arms circling each other.  
  
She broke away from his searching mouth, and bit his chin, gently at first but harder and harder as she moved down his neck. She felt his hands gripping her hips, his flesh warm and damp against hers. . . wait. His hands were on her hips? Her bare hips? With a flash of panic she realized that her nightgown was hiked up around her waist. His shorts were all that lay between them.  
  
"Ranma!" she said, a note of urgency in her voice. He pulled her closer to him, and she could feel the hairs of his thigh scraping against hers. . .Except his thighs were inside hers, his mouth traveling across her collar bone as he made little encouraging sounds. . .  
  
"Stop! Ranma!" she said, her voice coming out in a panic. A little longer and she would lose control of herself. . .  
  
He pulled back abruptly, scrabbling off the bed. His eyes were wide in fear as he searched Akane's face.  
  
"Oh, gods, Akane I am so sorry!" he said, his voice breaking. She had every right to be afraid of him. How could he let himself go like that. . .  
  
"Ranma, please," she said, her own voice breaking a bit. She wasn't entirely sure what she was asking until it came out. "Please, I can't do this anymore. I'm so afraid of losing myself when you and I. . ."  
  
"I'll leave," he offered, rising to his feet. She slid off the bed, pulling her nightgown down hastily.  
  
"You don't. . . you don't have to," she said softly. "I meant. . . I meant that I can't stand this anymore. Everyone already thinks we're married, we've already decided to actually get married some day. . . why not now? Then it'll be okay to lose ourselves. . ." she trailed off, cursing herself for her lack of eloquence. Ranma was very still for a moment, then her burst out laughing.  
  
"That's it? That's why you keep jerking away from me?" he asked. She looked at the floor, embarrassed.  
  
"Ummm well, that's a big part of it," she said quietly. He sat down on the floor abruptly, chuckling softly.  
  
"Sheesh, Akane, you could have said something earlier instead of making me feel like such an ass. When do you want to go down to the courthouse?" he asked. 


	3. Weddings and Wedding Nights

Well, I appreciate all the comments. Remember, if it sounds dirty it most certainly is. The rating gets more mature every chapter I add.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were mine, I feel like such a voyeur writing them like this.. . . and yet I write it anyway.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"Let's think through this logically," Akane sighed, spreading her hands wide in a gesture of acquiescence. Ranma took a deep, steadying breath and watched her expectantly. She had a point. It was his grudge, it was his trip to China, he was the reason she was getting puked on all the time. He DID need to find a job, but she DIDN'T have to yell at him about it. And she had been. All bloody morning.  
  
"Why not?" he asked, flopping back onto his back. He could almost hear her counting to ten before she spoke.  
  
"Okay, where have you gone looking for a job?" she asked.  
  
"Every freaking restaurant in Nerima, and a few in the outlying towns," he answered, irritably.  
  
"Just restaurants?" she asked, somewhat incredulous. He sat up and regarded her for a moment.  
  
"Yes, why?"  
  
"There are other places you could work, you know," she said dryly. He blinked, then resisted the urge to put his head through a wall. He actually hadn't thought of it. "Let's see. What are you good at?"  
  
"Martial arts," he answered immediately.  
  
"THAT won't help. Hey, I know. One of the women working with the older kids is going to be out for the next three months. She just had a baby, and they aren't allowed to take them to Omitawa until they're three months old. You could take over her shifts until she got back!" Akane smiled, pleased with herself. Ranma grimaced.  
  
"I'm really not all that good with kids," he admitted. Akane smirked at him for a long moment. "WHAT?"  
  
"Well, we're going down to the courthouse on Thursday, remember? And when we get home, in order to consummate it we'll have to. . ." she looked away, blushing. Ranma's eyes widened. He hadn't quite thought of that as something which would have to be immediately done. . . Suddenly his stomach flipped inside him, and crushed itself.  
  
"Anyway, what if I get pregnant? I'm sure I will eventually. You'll have to deal with kids then," she added, to justify the former statement. Ranma looked out the door of the dojo and tried to be less aware of the air hanging heavy on his shoulders and the floor hard and cold beneath his thighs.  
  
"Well, when that far-off day comes, we'll just have to see, won't we?" he answered. Of course, it wasn't an answer at all.  
  
"Okay, so no kids. Well, you could be a lifeguard, maybe. Or maybe you could get some odd job with a landscaping company or something," she suggested, dropping the former topic of conversation. Ranma looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged.  
  
"I guess. I'll look around, I suppose," he said, nonchalantly. He stood, lazily, and sauntered to the door of the dojo. As he reached it, he turned to glace at Akane.  
  
"I'll go out and continue the search, I guess. See you later," he said lightly. With that, he was off, running across the yard and leaping up onto rooftops, across rooftops, as far and fast as he could get.  
  
When he finally felt he'd gone far enough, he plopped himself down on a roof and buried his head in his hands. It was Tuesday. In two days, Akane would expect him to . . . kissing was one thing. Losing himself in their somewhat frantic embraces was one thing. But actual sex. . . that was something else entirely. Where did one even begin such a thing? And just what would be expected of him? He knew how that scenario played out in his head, but what about in Akane's?  
  
There was another problem, too. Sure, she'd seen him naked. And he'd seen her. But never with THAT hanging over them. What if he got nervous and his nether regions retracted into his body? What if at the last second she got terrified of him and ran away, leaving him exposed and. . . oh, hell. He wasn't he was up for this. Fighting to the death is all fine and well, admitting love calls for courage, but to let someone see you lose control, vulnerable and naked and gooey. . . he shuddered. He really, really wasn't sure he could handle it.  
  
___________________----------------------__________________  
  
"I don't know, I don't feel like it's any different," Ranma frowned, walking down the steps of the courthouse. Akane looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Her husband, her actual honest-to-God husband. A part of he didn't quite believe it.  
  
"Well, all we really did was sign a few forms. I mean, really, it wasn't like it was a big ceremony," she said sadly. He looked down at her sharply and stopped, his hands falling from their usual place behind his head.  
  
"I'm sorry, Akane," he said.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"You aren't going to get a big wedding. Hell, you aren't going to get a wedding at all. I know girls think a lot of that stuff," he told her. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Oh, feh. We did have a big wedding, remember? Shampoo and Ukyou thought it would be nice to set off some celebratory explosives before the ceremony. Remember? I think this is much better," she informed him. An idea occurred to her, and she looked up at Ranma speculatively.  
  
"We could still have a sort of ceremony," she said slowly. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she continued. "My mother is probably the only relative we have who knows we weren't married before. We could go visit her, have a little ceremony there," she smiled. Ranma blinked.  
  
"Akane, your mother is . . ."  
  
"I know, silly. That's why she's the only one who knows about our fake elopement," she giggled.  
  
Several hours later, kneeling in front of her mother's grave, Akane realized it might not have been such a great idea after all. She couldn't think of anything to say. Ranma, apparently, was similarly tongue tied. It felt so odd, to kneel in front of a tombstone with three glasses and a bottle of sake.*  
  
In silence, Ranma poured the first cup of sake, and took three sips from it. Grimacing a bit, he handed it to Akane, who also took three sips. She poured the rest over her mother's grave, and he handed her the second cup, grimacing again. The third cup wasn't quite as full as the others, and Akane realized with a small smile that Ranma had gulped it down. She wondered if he were nervous about something.  
  
"Goodbye for now, mother. I hope you approve," she said softly. It was all she could think to say. In silence, they stood, bowed to the silent stone, and walked out of the graveyard. Ranma smiled down at her as he threw away the empty sake bottle and three plastic cups, as they left the graveyard.  
  
"That feels more different," he announced. She nodded, and a quiet descended more uncomfortable than any that had ever passed between them After what seemed an eternity, just outside the dojo Ranma cleared his throat loudly, and began to speak.  
  
"I found a job, by the way," he announced. Akane looked up at him in surprise. He continued, carefully not looking at her. "I looked all over, you know, and there didn't seem to be anybody hiring for a position I could fill . . . except there was this lifegaurding position open at one of the community pools. I'll have to get certified and everything, but it'll be a good summer job," he said.  
  
"Ranma, that's wonderful!" Akane smiled. He glanced down at her, a mischievous grin on his face.  
  
"You don't mind me watching all those pretty girls play in their bikinis?" he teased. She smiled at him, a beatific smile.  
  
"Oh, I'm not worried. As your wife I have the right to beat the crap out of every girl you look at," she said sweetly. "And you, of course, for looking. According to Amara, they make some very fun devices to prevent philandering. But you'd never do that," she smiled. She batted her eyes at him and walked on, through the gates of the Tendo Dojo. He stared after her, his left eyebrow twitching.  
  
"This may have been a bad idea."  
  
___________________-------------------_______________  
  
"Ummmm hi," Akane smiled shyly. Ranma, froze in the doorway to her room, his hand still on the towel he'd been using to dry his hair. The cold water beaded on his shoulders, making his tank top and boxers damp. What caused him to freeze was Akane, sitting on the bed. Sitting on the bed in a bra, underwear, and some lacy robe thing he didn't have a word for.  
  
So she expected him to do that NOW? But he hadn't prepared himself mentally for this sort if thing! He supposed he should have, it was technically their wedding night. . . but hell, he hadn't thought that she'd want him to . . . right away. . .  
  
"Well, come in and close the door," she said, a bit crossly. He shook himself as if waking from a dream and did as he was asked. Once the door was closed behind him, he simply stood there, unsure of where to move.  
  
"Ranma? Are you all right?" Akane asked, frowning. He nodded, his head jerking unsteadily. She sat back against the headboard and motioned for him to join her. Somewhat unsteady on his feet, he complied, kneeling in front of her. He was reminded of a time in the dojo, back when they barely knew each other. . . but this time, he wasn't afraid to lean in and kiss her. Even though they were both on her bed, in their underwear, he WASN'T afraid to kiss her, damnit!  
  
Their lips touched, and a shudder passed through him. He leaned closer to her, and her hands slipped into his wet hair, playing with the tender skin of his scalp and neck. Closer, and he could feel the edge of her lacy robe brushing his arm. This was Akane, Akane half naked on her bed, just inches away. She pulled him closer, close enough to know her robe had fallen open and her skin, warm and inviting, stretched out bare beneath his chest.  
  
She expected him to . . . but he couldn't think about that part just yet. His nerves were taut as fishing lines already. He slid a hand around her waist, under her robe. Since they began their training, she'd gained a lot of muscle mass. He loved to watch her move, but he'd never been able to feel them moving under her soft skin as she pulled him closer still, whispering nonsense and biting his lip gently. . .  
  
His shoulders shuddered and he pulled away from her, a horrified expression on his face. Without a word, he jumped up from her arms and ran out of the room.  
  
His feet carried him all the way to the laundry room outside the bathroom. He was extremely grateful for the set-up of the Tendo Dojo, especially now that he needed a washer and a bathroom in close proximity. He couldn't, after all, go back to Akane's bed with that mess in his shorts.  
  
__________________-----------------------_______________  
  
"Uncute tomboy. Built like a brick," his voice echoed in her mind. She stared out at the door hanging open, her mouth gaping. He hadn't just run from her in terror, had he? She slid off the bed and walked slowly to the door, shutting it softly. As if in a trance, she returned to the bed. She slid the lacy robe off her shoulders and put on an oversized t-shirt and some shorts, keeping the bra. She felt very naked, very exposed.  
  
"Why would he. . ." she whispered, and then lay her head on the cold pillow. Was he so. . . disgusted by her? So afraid of her? So terrified that on their wedding night, he couldn't even. . . stay with her?  
  
She curled into a ball and cried until her eyes felt hollow.  
  
______________________-------------------------_________________  
  
By the time Ranma returned to Akane's room, he could hear her breathing heavy and slow. He paused in the doorway again, frowning. At last he closed the door and crept across the floor, stopping in front of Akane's bed. Akane's bed. One would think that after a year it would have become THEIR bed.  
  
"Akane? Are you awake?" he whispered. He touched the lump on the bed lightly, and received no response. With a sigh of relief, he slid under the covers. He lay awake for a while, just listening to her breathe.  
  
::I just hope she isn't mad in the morning,:: he thought, staring at the shadowy ceiling. ::Hell, I'd be mad if I were her. Oh, man, tomorrow is going to blow. And why not? Tonight did.::  
  
*Author's Note: In a traditional Shinto wedding, the bride and groom each take three sips of sake from three cups, and then pass the rest to their families. Since there were a lot of arranged marriages, I think the sake was sort of "liquid courage" for wedding nights. 


	4. And the Morning After

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Akane opened her eyes slowly to the feel of a warm body next to hers, draped over her. She jolted awake, sitting up abruptly to stare down at the possessor of the warm body. He was still sleeping, his forehead furrows as if he were having bad dreams. She felt as though she was made of lead, every limb too heavy to move, when she realized he was, in all probability, dreaming about her.  
  
Her mind flashed on the image of his face just before he ran out of the room, shocked and terrified. Was she so horrible? She felt like crying, staring down at him and knowing, now, that something was horribly wrong. Perhaps he'd felt trapped into marriage, felt he'd compromised her or something with the fake elopement? Or maybe he just hadn't actually thought about it. But obviously, if the look on his face were any indication. . . the thought of spending his life with her was unbearable.  
  
And yet he's come back to sleep with her. Why? She stifled a sob, sliding off the end of the bed so as not to wake him. She couldn't face him yet, not until she had better control of herself. Why sleep with her?  
  
::The floor is too cold and hard,:: a little voice shouted, maliciously, in her mind.  
  
::Oh hell,:: the rest of her thought, looking at the man she'd just married. She fled from the room, feeling like she was bleeding inside.  
  
_______________----------------------______________  
  
************************************************************************  
  
"Hey Ranma, look what the stork brought!" a familiar voice cried, happily. Ranma, walking along the fencepost, turned to see Akane on the sidewalk, holding a baby in a blanket. He hopped down, a big smile on his face.  
  
"Is that ours?" he asked, looking into her big brown eyes. She sort of shrugged.  
  
"Mine, at least. Here, do you want to see?" she asked. He nodded, and she pulled back the cloth for him to see. In the blanket was a chubby, sleeping child with a tuft of bright red hair. Ranma grinned proudly.  
  
"Looks a lot like me, for not really having any bones yet. Can I hold him?" he asked. Akane looked at him as though he'd lost his mind.  
  
"No, you can't. And SHE doesn't look a thing like you, why should she?" she asked, frowning in confusion. Ranma blinked at her.  
  
"Well, it's my kid, right? I mean, if it's your kid. . ."  
  
"Don't be silly!" she said, a sweet smile on her face. "She isn't yours. You couldn't manage to go through with it, remember? Mr. Nervous?" ************************************************************************  
  
Ranma woke from the dream in a cold sweat, alone in a big, messy bed. He looked at the clock on the nightstand. Ten A.M. Akane would be at work already. What a dream. . . He wasn't sure he wanted to be at home when she got back. What if she laughed at him? Mocked him? What if all they could do was blush and avoid each other's eyes?  
  
He stumbled out of the bedroom, mumbling and rubbing his head. As he was about to walk into the bathroom, Kasumi, standing in the hallway with a basket of laundry on her hip, stopped him.  
  
"Ranma, is everything all right with you and Akane?" she asked. He took a step back, blushing fiercely. Akane hadn't. . . TOLD Kasumi, had she? She wouldn't. . .  
  
"Well, I guess," he said lamely. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"She left so early this morning, and she looked as though she'd been crying. . ." Kasumi fixed Ranma with a stern glare. He shrank back from her, afraid merely because her glares were so rare.  
  
"Did you do something to my sister, Ranma-kun?" she asked. He shook his head fervently.  
  
::At least, I don't think I did anything to her,:: he thought. Kasumi nodded, apparently satisfied, and walked down the stairs. He stood outside the bathroom door trying to think of why Akane would be crying. Surely not because she was married to such a loser? No, he dismissed that thought right away. Akane was the type to let you know what she thought of you.  
  
::You jerked away from her, looked at her in sheer horror, and ran out of the room. On your wedding night,:: he realized. If he'd been holding anything, it would have clattered to the floor. Heaven only knew WHAT she thought of him now.  
  
________________--------------------______________  
  
"Dream deep, and leave the world's cares far behind. Dream deep, sleep soundly, sleep, faraway as. . ." Akane stopped, her voice shaking. "Faraway as a lover's lies, farther than the nearest part of you."  
  
She'd taken one of the particularly fussy children outside. The baby's name was Riko, and she had the lung capacity to scream for a solid hour. Recently, she'd seen fit to demonstrate that ability. It was soothing in a way, to calm Riko, but Akane felt like her insides were caving in upon themselves. She watched her feet move through the grass as she sang. The world was collapsing around her, and the only solid thing she could feel was the hot, sniveling little mound of flesh clutching at her shirt. . .  
  
"Akane?" a deep voice asked, and she froze. Riko stirred and whimpered as the singing stopped, and she hummed a bit to soothe her. She could not turn to face him. Not now.  
  
"Akane, Kasumi said you were crying. Are you. . . all right?" he asked slowly. She took a deep breath. Here it was, the moment of her life when she'd require every particle of courage she ever possessed. She'd thought admitting she loved Ranma was hard, but it was nothing. Giving him an out, giving him a way to leave her. . . that was harder. But she couldn't manage to do it right. She couldn't manage to convince him she'd never wanted him anyway, she wasn't a good enough actress for that. All she could do was offer.  
  
And NOT CRY.  
  
"I'm all right, Ranma. Listen, it's all right if you can't go through with this," she said slowly, pitching her voice low so he wouldn't hear it trembling.  
  
"It is?" he said, in absolute shock. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and continued.  
  
"Yeah, I mean. . . even if you do love me, if the thought of living with me for the rest of your life scares you that much, you don't have to. You really don't, we can get the marriage annulled and. . ."  
  
"You want to anull it?" he said, sounding very hurt. She finally turned to look at him, and was surprised to see a real pain in his eyes. ::Well, if he's going to leave me, it ought to hurt,:: she thought.  
  
"I don't want a husband who can't stand me," she informed him. He just stared at her in astonishment.  
  
"What are you talking about, can't stand you?" he said defensively.  
  
"What else could it be? You had such a look of horror on your face. . ." she said softly, tears coming to her eyes. Seeing them, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms loosely around her, with Riko on her shoulder.  
  
"Akane, I wasn't looking at you like that because of you. I looked like that because of something I did," he said softly. How to explain. . . without dying of embarrassment?  
  
"But you hadn't done anything!" she cried. Riko stirred in her arms, beginning to fuss again.  
  
"Well, actually. . ." Ranma said slowly. There was no help for it. He's thought she knew enough about . . . sex to have figured out what happened. How could she not, working in a place where they laid out plans about seducing him? "I was so nervous, and we've never been in a situation like that. . . I sort of made a mess of my shorts."  
  
She pulled away from him in disgust.  
  
"Honestly, Ranma, you can't expect me to believe that. First off, I change diapers for money and I sure as hell would have recognized the smell," she announced, glaring at him. He blushed furiously.  
  
"NOT THAT KIND OF MESS!" he shouted. Riko woke up and began screaming just as realization dawned on Akane's face.  
  
"Oh," she said, in a very small voice. She looked down at the screaming baby and then glared back up at Ranma.  
  
"You woke her up, YOU take her," she said sternly, thrusting the baby at him. He took Riko from Akane, holding the baby out as if it smelled horrible. Which, as Akane had just changed her diaper, she didn't. Akane raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"You have to hold her against your chest. There you go, like that. And make soothing noises. Soothing, not grating. There you are. She'll quiet down eventually," Akane pointed out.  
  
"Why am I doing this if you're getting paid for it?" Ranma asked.  
  
"Because you woke her up, of course. So," Akane looked up at him, suddenly shy. "It isn't that you can't stand me at all, is it? It was sort of the opposite problem."  
  
"You might say that," Ranma grimaced, decidedly uncomfortable with this topic of conversation. "I'm sorry you thought. . . "  
  
"Shh. Concentrate on getting her to stop making that horrible, horrible noise." 


	5. Ranma's Summer Job

Disclaimer: Not mine, and unless you're Rumiko Takahashi, not yours either.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
There he was. THE most gorgeous man ever to wear swim trunks. He was walking along the fencerail surrounding the pool, tan and bored in his off- white tank top with the big red letters: LIFEGAURD. He threw a few punches at the air, a few kicks, and all the time retained his impeccable balance. She sighed, daydreaming. He must be at least sixteen to be qualified to be a lifeguard. Which made him at least three years older than her. If ever there was a time he wouldn't think of her as a child. . . if she could get him to notice her. . .  
  
"Kayako?" a soft voice asked behind her. Kayako jumped and rounded on the smartass trying to scare her to death. When she saw who it was, she took a step back, raising her arm as if to ward of a blow.  
  
"Wh. . . what do you want, Gombe?" she asked, glaring at him. The boy who'd startled her looked up from his meager height ( a whole two inches less than her own) and frowned in confusion.  
  
"If you wanna swim, why not just go to the pool? Your family bought summer passes, right?" he asked. She glanced at his dirty jeans and scuffed elbows and sniffed. Gombe would never be as graceful as Ranma-kun. Or as tall. Tall counts for a lot when all the boys your age stand half a head shorter than you.  
  
"I don't have to answer your childish questions," she said haughtily. He blinked at her, then looked over to where Ranma-kun was punching the air. A snide smile spread slowly across his face.  
  
"Well, I can understand. . . if you just want to be some creepy stalker chick, that makes perfect sense," he said. She glared at him.  
  
"I am NOT a stalker!" she cried. She looked over at the pool in apprehension. "Besides, there are so many girls over there, I'll just be another flesh-filled bathing suit."  
  
Gombe rolled his eyes.  
  
"Girls are sooooooo stupid," he muttered, walking away from her. "You could just TALK to him, baka. Stupid stalker."  
  
"I am NOT a stalker!" she yelled after him. That idiot Gombe, following her around all the time, calling HER a stalker. . . she hated to admit that the jerk had a point.  
  
_________________-------------------------______________  
  
Ranma was bored. Ranma couldn't even remember the last time he'd been this bored. When he'd applied for this job, he'd thought he'd be pulling drowning kids out of pools all day. Or people like Akane, too clumsy to learn how to swim. He was beginning to wish he'd taken her advice and applied for the job with the little kids, at least then the days would be eventful.  
  
He couldn't even train while he was working. His first week, that was all he'd done. He'd done one-handed headstand push-ups all day long, flips and twists and somersaults on the fencerail. It wasn't helping a lot, but it was something to do. Then the manager, a short, plump woman with long blonde hair, had yelled at him. He grinned to remember the conversation.  
  
*Ranma-kun, you won't know if your patrons are drowning unless you WATCH THEM,* she'd growled. He'd looked at her in surprise.  
  
*I can hear them.*  
  
*You can't hear what they're doing!*  
  
*Sure I can.* he closed his eyes. *A kid just threw another kid into the air, he'll surface in a second. There he goes. The chubby lady just jumped off the diving board. All those middle school girls in the corner are STILL in the corner, refusing to get wet except. . . the one that somebody just pushed in. A little girl is crying because she got splashed in the face. . . NO SPLASHING! And the little boy I just yelled at is now hiding under the water. . .*  
  
*Fine, Saotome. You've made your point. But the people who pay to use this pool do so with the confidence that they will be well protected. If they can't see you watching them, their confidence in us is damaged. So, Saotome, WATCH THEM!*  
  
He sighed. He wished the manager had never caught him. There was nothing to do all day but watch a bunch of middle school girls and some kids. . . why were they all middle school girls anyway? He looked around, frowning. They were! Almost three-fourths of the people at the pool were thirteen-year-old girls. He looked around at them suspiciously. A group of females this large never seemed to bode well for him.  
  
::On the other hand, if Happosai were to somehow find out I work here I would never have another boring day,:: he speculated.  
  
"Hey, Mister?" a small voice asked to his left. He turned his head to look down at a girl with long, dark hair and an orange bathing suit. She was staring at her feet, which were painted with the most garish color of green he'd seen in all his life. He guessed she would be about twelve. Another one. Perfect.  
  
"Can I help you, miss?" he asked, politely. She glanced up at him, then blushed and looked away again. He quirked an eyebrow at her.  
  
::What's with this kid?:: he wondered. She held out a pack of playing cards.  
  
"Do you wanna. . . play? You look bored," she said softly. He hopped down from the fencerail and plopped down on the concrete.  
  
"You bet I am! What's your name?" he asked. She blushed, taking the cards out of the box. Maybe it was just a sunburn. There was no reason for this kid to be blushing, unless she was just unbearably shy.  
  
"I'm Kayako," she whispered.  
  
"Well, Kayako, I'm Ranma. What shall we play?" he asked amiably.  
  
"Old Maid?" she suggested, timidly. The cards were dealt, and the game began. At first, when she began to win every round, she thought he was going easy on her. However, as the afternoon wore on it became painfully obvious that he was just bad at card games. Really, really bad.  
  
Just before the pool was supposed to close, a pretty woman with short, dark hair in a long navy blue skirt appeared on the other side of the fence behind Ranma. She motioned for Kayako to keep quiet, and picked up a stick.  
  
"Akane, don't even think about it," he said, his tone bored. She let the stick fall to the ground and folded her hands behind her back, feigning innocence. He turned to grin at her.  
  
"You and I are going to do some serious training later," he promised. Akane, the pretty woman, stuck out her tongue at him.  
  
"Good thing, you probably need it," she replied. He snorted.  
  
"Not half so much as you, slowpoke," he reminded her.  
  
"Humph. And after I walked all the way out here to see you, too," she replied.  
  
"Yeah, I thought you'd be at work?" he asked. She shrugged.  
  
"For some bizarre reason a lot of kids left early today. Are you almost done?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah. Oh, Akane, this is Kayako, she's been keeping me company today," he announced. "Kayako, this is my wife, Akane."  
  
"Hello, Kayako," Akane smiled. She frowned at the stricken look on the young girl's face. She looked around the pool and saw that for some inexplicable reason, all of the young girls at the pool, and there were QUITE a lot of them, were staring at her.  
  
"Ranma's wife?" Kayako asked. She nodded, confused.  
  
"What?" Ranma asked, somewhat defensively. The silence dissolved immediately into the loud, high-pitched chatter of thirteen-year-old girls. They all, rather noisily, exited the pool. Even Kayako, with a final glare for Akane, ran out to the locker rooms. Ranma surveyed the empty pool with a look of bemusement on his face.  
  
"Wonder what got into them," he muttered. He got even more confused in the weeks to come, when the number of young girls coming to the pool every day dropped drastically.  
  
_________________---------------------_______________  
  
Akane opened the door, sighing. It felt so wonderful to be free of vomit and drool! Her light was still on, and Ranma was lying on her bed, reading a manga. He looked up when she walked in, and smiled. Smiling softly back, she walked over to the bed and kissed his forehead gently.  
  
"Ooouph!" she grunted, as he pulled her down to him, laughing. The manga fell to the floor. He rolled over with her, the laugh ending in a kiss. His lips were warm and soft, she could still taste the tea on his tongue from supper. He pulled away, and she gasped, her eyes flying open.  
  
"Akane. . ." he whispered, his blue eyes uncertain. His hand came up to caress her cheek, and she exhaled softly.  
  
"Do you think. . ." he continued, backing away slowly, ". . .that this is a good idea? I . . ." he turned away. "I don't want to make you cry again. Maybe we should just. . ."  
  
"Ranma," she said, and her tone made him turn around. He looked down at her, his fists clenched at his sides. She reached out for him, her fingers brushing his arm and then falling back. "Please don't," she said softly. "Just. . . just stay."  
  
He took a deep breath, and sat back down on the bed. She reached out as if to touch him, but retracted her hand. Ever since their abortive wedding night, it was as if he were afraid to ever kiss her. She hated this wall between them, this uncomfortable silence. . .  
  
"It's only me, Ranma," she said softly. He took her hand as she was pulling it back and laced his fingers through hers. They looked at each other for a moment. Hesitantly, he leaned toward her. He stared into those big brown eyes, soft and familiar. He could feel her breath warm on his lips just before they brushed hers, soft and moist. Something tight in his stomach loosened and he lost his uncertainty in the warm glow of her skin. She pulled away from him for a moment, smiling as she loosened his hair of its braid. He gazed into those bright eyes.  
  
And lost himself.  
  
_______________------------------______________  
  
"Saotome, do you think we can do that last move over?" Soun said, desperately trying to keep his mind on shogi. It was difficult to concentrate with the third world war going on upstairs.  
  
**Gee, what do you think?** the panda sign flashed. Soun glowered at his friend, but didn't argue. That would require more brain power than he was willing to use at the moment. Because if he allowed himself to think too much, he'd begin to wonder what all the racket was.  
  
"Wow, I hope I have that much fun when I'm married," Nabiki said dryly, glancing at the ceiling. Soun rounded on his daughter.  
  
"Nabiki! What are you thinking?" he asked, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. Akane was married now, he didn't have to worry about her. . .  
  
"Well, judging by the screams and the thumping, either they're beating the hell out of each other or. . ." she shrugged, letting the subject drop. "I don't know why I bother to visit. I can't wait to get back to America!" she moaned. Soun frowned at her.  
  
"You shouldn't be so eager to leave your family, Nabiki," he admonished. She smiled cheerily at him.  
  
"Oh, Daddy. Don't you want me to get a good job? Be independent? You know there are no good jobs for women in Japan," she winked at him, rising to her feet. "As long as the kids are having fun upstairs, I'll just get out of earshot," she said, making for the door. She would much, MUCH rather wander around Nerima than sit and listen to her baby sister scream.  
  
_______________-----------------______________  
  
He shuddered, a last, strangled sigh breaking from his lips as he collapsed on top of her. Akane gasped at the sudden weight. His arms slipped under her back and encircled her, holding her tight to him as though gravity weren't enough.  
  
"Ranma. . ." she said softly, beginning to feel a bit claustrophobic.  
  
"Mnmmmmnhm?" he mumbled, his breath tickling her ear.  
  
"I can't breathe," she admitted. He chuckled, weakly, and rolled over with her so that she was on top, maintaining his death grip around her torso. She sighed happily and laid her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder. So many new and strange sensations at once, the feel of his bare skin against hers, of his hair brushing across her shoulders like a soft, light curtain, not to mention . . .  
  
"Love you," she murmured. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath.  
  
"Love you, Akane," he replied, his voice soft. She smiled, and drifted off to sleep convinced that the world was rolling in the right direction for once. 


	6. The Trip to China

Disclaimer: Not mine. Ect.  
  
Sorry it took me so long to update. My computer died a horrible, sudden death. It was sad.  
  
Asleep, still. He drew a finger lightly across her jawbone, down her neck to where the smooth curve of her collarbone waited to shiver under his touch. Nearly three months now, three months of doing more than simply occupying the space in her bed. Their bed, he reminded himself, their bed. Three months of being married to Akane, and he was still alive. And relatively unbruised. The bruises he did have. . . a series of bite marks and scratches all over his shoulders and back. . . . he hadn't really minded getting those. Not at all.  
  
After three months, he was beginning to know her an a whole different level. To know what will make her shiver, and what will make her moan, what will bring her to a lifeless, gasping halt in his arms. And she was learning the same things about him. Gods, but he'd never known his body could do some of those things! Could feel some of those things. . . but it wasn't even really the bodily sensations that shocked him the most. It was the warmth that spread through his chest when she kissed him now, a promise of later diversions, and the overwhelming sensation of coming home that those diversions brought. Home. He'd attached the meaning of the word to her strong, slender hands and deep brown eyes.  
  
Which was why, huddled in a thin canvas tent in a deserted forest somewhere in the wilds of China, he felt secure. Safe. More at peace and at home than he had since he was very, very young. He hadn't even missed the sensation, as used as he was to wandering and the unstable promises of his father. But now. . . traveling with just Akane. . .  
  
"Mnnnrffle dmmmfltum," she announced, stretching languorously. He smiled, amused, as she arched her back and then stopped, surprised not to feel him near her.  
  
"Morning," he said, in a tone appropriately wretched to the hour. She cracked an eye open and grunted, satisfied that he was near, just in front of her and sitting. "Come on, little ragamuffin, you're going to sleep the day away," he admonished. She opened her eyes to glare at him then. It was true enough, she did look like a ragamuffin. Without the benefit of bathtubs, mirrors, or more than one change of clothes, she was dirty, tussled, and none too malleable. But then, he was in much the same state. And the newness of being able to see her without clothes had greatly diminished the importance of the clothes themselves in his mind.  
  
"Bah," she said stiffly, rolling into a sitting position. She stretched again, and rustled around in her pack for a bit, drawing out a bruised apple and taking a bite. They were scavenging for most of their food, now, mostly living off the trail. . . and the farms adjacent to the trail. He busied himself with rolling up the sleeping mats and blankets, carefully stowing them with the packs. There was a particularly bad bruise just at the base of his neck, and it hurt every time he moved his arm. He'd have to pay her back for that one. In kind.  
  
"The way I see it," Akane said suddenly, breaking the silence, "this is really sort of a honeymoon. More so than that silly trip our dads arranged when they thought we first got married. And it is sweet, in its own way," she shot him a meaningful glance, "and private."  
  
"You're right," he mused, shrugging the thought off. Honeymoon or journey towards revenge, a rose by any other name and all that. He crawled a foot or so towards her, closing the distance between them. She pulled him to her, gently brushing his lips with her own. Her hand lingered on his cheek, caressing the smooth planes created by the underlying bones. Smiling, he took her hand in his own and kissed her knuckles gently.  
  
"We have a long way to go today," he said reluctantly, and left her alone in the tent.  
  
------------------------  
  
Akane sat frowning at the little pill box. It contained about six more small oval tablets than it should, and that worried her. The pills inside were the birth control pills Kasumi had insisted she get, forever and a day ago when she and Ranma had faked their elopement. Her idea was that while her sister might be old enough to be a wife, SHE wasn't old enough to be an aunt. She'd taken the pills faithfully every day since she got them, knowing they'd take three months to take effect and unsure where she'd be by that time. At least, she thought she'd taken them every day. Perhaps she'd accidentally brought more with her than she thought? No . . . it was entirely possible that she had completely forgotten to take her pills at some point during the three weeks she'd spent in China. The question was, did she forget them all in a row? If it was just a few scattered days it would be all right, but in a row. . .  
  
"Akane?" Ranma asked behind her. She turned from the rock she'd been sitting on to see him smiling, holding both packs, and apparently held hostage by a girl with a rather dangerous looking saber. Akane knew he could beat the girl. . . but she had a sneaking suspicion. . .  
  
"It appears we're closer to the Amazon village than we thought we were," he informed her, his tone insultingly casual.  
  
----------------------  
  
"You two have less sense than most vegetables," Cologne fumed, pacing back and forth. Ranma and Akane, sitting in her hut away from the curious, accusatory glares of the rest of the tribe, absorbed this insult without comment.  
  
"You are just incredibly fortunate that I saw you before you told them your name," she continued.  
  
"But Shampoo's married, right? And I'm married, and the girl me is. . . dead, and so what could they do?" Ranma interrupted. Cologne fixed him with a gimlet eye.  
  
"They can beat the hell out of you on general principle. Shampoo was a popular girl, and you have effectively ruined her life. Married to a man she can't stand the sight of. . ."  
  
"Still?" Akane gasped, dismayed. She'd thought for sure that Mousse would be able to win the stubborn Amazon over.  
  
"Still," Cologne sighed, suddenly seeming weary. She shook her head and turned to Ranma, most traces of anger lost in the fatigue that washed her features.  
  
"Why have you come here?" she asked. Ranma straightened his back.  
  
"Mousse beat me, more than a year ago. I came to see if I could even the score," he explained, completely ignoring the fact that Mousse's victory couldn't outweigh the countless times he'd lost to Ranma.  
  
"So he was telling the truth. Huh," Cologne mused. She glared at Akane. "And you?"  
  
"You don't think I was going to let him leave me behind!" Akane replied hotly. Cologne glared at her.  
  
"Fool. Amazon law is a lot different than your law. In Japan, the legality of a marriage is enough. Here, until the woman is pregnant the marriage can be voided," she announced. The blood drained from Akane's face.  
  
"You mean. . ."  
  
"That's right, child. All bets are off. Now that you're here, Shampoo will try to void her marriage to Mousse," she glared at Ranma, "by somehow winning you."  
  
"She can't win me over," Ranma scoffed, with a glance at Akane.  
  
"I didn't say win you over. I said win you. Like a prize. Unless you're expecting, Akane, I believe Shampoo will try to kill you."  
  
----------------------  
  
They slept in Cologne's hut that night, dozing fitfully, waiting for Shampoo's footsteps to sound at the door. Ranma felt trapped. The way Cologne had explained it to them, if he fought Shampoo again and won, she could again make a claim on him. . . provided neither she nor Akane was pregnant. According to the old ghoul, Shampoo kept Mousse from her bed with a variety of potions and sharp implements, so that was out. And Akane had been taking birth control pills since long before they'd consummated their marriage.  
  
If he lost to her, he automatically had lower status in the tribe and could not officially challenge Mousse, who was presumably strong enough to beat her. It all seemed ridiculous to him, but the end of it was that he couldn't fight Shampoo. Which meant, WHEN the purple-haired girl came for them (which Cologne assured them she would) Akane would have to fight her. He wasn't absolutely sure Akane could beat her. And he'd be damned if he'd stand by and watch Shampoo try to kill Akane. His guts wrenched at the very thought.  
  
Which left him with one final option. Find Mousse, beat him, and get the hell back on the road before Shampoo knew they were in her village. If Mousse could be either knocked out or convinced not to tell her. . . there was a chance. The old ghoul seemed to be on their side, in a limited sense. She was tired of the stubborn refusal of her granddaughter to accept her fate. She was tired of the wall-wreaking and sullen silences. Most of all, she was tired of the other elders looking at her as though she were a failure. She would not have Shampoo disgrace herself further.  
  
So.  
  
As soon as Akane's breathing got more regular, he kissed her forehead and rose to his feet. The old ghoul was lying on her side, at the other side of the small hut. Drool was dribbling out of her wrinkled mouth.  
  
"Cologne," he said, quietly. She rolled to her feet, instantly awake and none too happy about it. Centuries of battle training had done it do her. She could hardly sleep anymore, she was always jolting awake at some tiny sound. But her name. . . that was not such an insignificant sound.  
  
"This better be worth it," she mumbled, glowering at him. He explained the idea to her, briefly, asking how to find Mousse and other such necessary things. Cologne answered his questions with a speculative glare, tapping her fingers impatiently on her leg.  
  
"And Akane?" she asked at last, narrowing her eyes to slits as she regarded him. He took a bracing breath.  
  
"I leave her in your care. If Shampoo finds out she's here before I get back. . ." he frowned, wondering just what he could ask of the old ghoul.  
  
"Oh, I can see to my granddaughter easily enough. But if she challenges Akane openly instead of simply going in for the kill, there is little I can do. Or rather, little I am willing to do. The only way I will intervene is if Akane is carrying a child—one of our most sacred laws prohibits the killing of a pregnant woman, challenge or no." She smiled wryly at Ranma. "I assume you have taken precautions against such a thing?"  
  
He nodded numbly. A quick, secret fight still seemed to him to be the only good option, but it was losing its appeal all the time. Perhaps they should just go home. But then. . . their trip would have been in vain. More importantly, for the rest of his life he would see the new cursed form of Mousse behind his eyelids, jeering at him. He couldn't just leave when he was so close.  
  
"Please hide her, then," he asked, and slipped out the door into the night. Cologne watched him go with a sinking feeling. She knew that if the events of the night and dawn didn't go well, there would be more deaths than just Akane's. She shook her head to clear it of the images of suicide and murder that filled it. If Akane died, and Ranma once more became the property of Shampoo. . . remembering the tale of Saffron's defeat, and Mousse's quiet revelation of the moments in which Akane's live was in peril. . . she was not so sure Ranma would take it philosophically. In fact, she was reasonably sure copious amounts of blood would be involved in the aftermath. And decaying flesh.  
  
"Too bloody macabre," she muttered to herself. With a last speculative glance at the figure curled ont eh floor of her hut, she too disappeared into the night. On the off chance that their "precautions" had failed, she wanted to be sure Akane was not with child. In order to do that, there were a few things she needed to fetch.  
  
As she bounced through the village, using her staff like a pogo stick, she passed the hut Mousse shared with Shampoo. She noted with a nod of satisfaction the two shadows sneaking away from it. What she didn't notice was the pale face of a purple-haired woman, staring at the two shadows with an expression of shock. 


	7. Fight! Fight! Fight!

Disclaimer: Ranma and all his insane companions are property of Rumiko Takahashi.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Shampoo stared out of the door of her hut in mingled apprehension and amazement. He was here. He'd come back for her. A part of her heart leapt at that, perhaps he'd challenge Mousse and win her away from him. Perhaps that was what he was doing, trying to free himself of the kitchen-wrecker. That was, however, the very smallest part of her heart. The rest, which had become twisted and bitter in the year spent back in her tribe, disgraced and nearly friendless, had a much darker celebration. If Ranma was here, Ranma could be made to suffer. He could be made to suffer greatly for what he'd done to her. For the twisting and shattering of her heart.  
  
For the last year, Shampoo had spent the majority of her time training. There was little else to do, she certainly had no intention of keeping house for that idiot Mousse, and she had disgraced herself so she couldn't hold a position of responsibility in the tribe. Sometimes she'd catch glimpses of her so-called husband in the woods, training as well. They never spoke to each other on such occasions, there was no need. The only triumph Shampoo had felt since they left Japan was the triumph of her determination over her body, the strength flowing through her muscles in a way it never had before. In fact, if he'd slacked off just a bit since his marriage to the kitchen-wrecker, she might just be able to beat him.  
  
But before she tried that, she had to seek the council of her Great- Grandmother. After all, Cologne kept track of all the comings and goings in their village. Perhaps she'd even know why Ranma had come. If he'd come to win her, she wouldn't fight him. There would be ways to make him suffer that went so much deeper than the flesh.  
  
-------------------------   
  
Akane awoke to see the somewhat irritated face of Cologne standing over her. She sat up, and was suddenly eye-level with the shrunken old woman. Why. . . . She looked around. Why wasn't Ranma still in the hut? Where had he gone?  
  
"He went to find Mousse. He thinks he can beat him before Shampoo learns you're here," Cologne explained, seeing the direction of her gaze. She held out her hand to Akane, showing the girl the little red pill she held within it. "Eat this," she ordered. Akane looked at it suspiciously.  
  
"What is it?" she asked, not taking it. Cologne sighed.  
  
"One of the many pills my old friend Soap knows how to make. If a pregnant woman takes it, it will protect her womb from all blows. More importantly, once she takes it a red shroud forms over her belly," Cologne explained.  
  
"But I'm not pregnant," Akane protested.  
  
"On the off chance that you might be, take it anyway. Look, if Shampoo does find you but you've got a red shroud over your belly, she'll know what that means and leave you alone. She'll hate it, but she'll leave you alone," Cologne insisted. The logic seemed sound enough to Akane, so she popped the pill in her mouth and swallowed.  
  
"It takes a few minutes to work," Cologne informed her, but Akane didn't hear. She was far too busy staring at the doorway, where Shampoo stood staring just as steadily back at her. She watched the emotions play over the face of the Amazon, shock, anger, and sorrow, followed by an expression so cold and calculating it made Akane shiver. She could almost see Shampoo weighing her options. And she knew just what the Amazon was going to do. She might was well save her the trouble.  
  
"Shampoo, I challenge you," she said steadily, rising to her feet and glaring at the Amazon. Shampoo smiled, a cold little smile. Was she good enough to beat Shampoo? She thought so, at least she was good enough to beat her if she was still just as strong as she was when she left Japan. Eyeing the corded arms, she wasn't so sure that was the case.  
  
They walked out into the street together, wordless but cordial. They took up their stances, watched each other or a moment. Then, with an undulating cry, Shampoo launched herself at Akane.  
  
The fight was joined.  
  
------------------------  
  
The fight was joined, underneath the trees that hid the stars. They were silent in the dark, only their breaths betraying their movements. Ranma and Mousse were using their instincts and extra senses to guide them now, not their sight or hearing. It was easier, just a bit, because both combatants were dripping wet and the water made small noises as it fell when they moved.  
  
Ranma kicked the huge lion's head that belonged to Mousse's new cursed form, and used it as a place to vault off of to dodge the resulting column of flame. Now, when he got wet, Ranma stayed a man. And when Mousse got wet, he became a chimera. The original Chimera, with a lion's head, torso and upper legs, a huge serpents tail for a back end, and half of a goat sticking out of his back. The half with teeth and sharp little hooves. That was nothing, though. The real problem was that he could breathe fire.  
  
The serpents tail lashed out at Ranma, and he jumped over it. If he could just lure Mousse into a spiral pattern. . . He fell back to the ground, stepping around the tail, dodging the huge clawed paws, leading Mousse a merry dance in smaller and smaller circles. At last, he reached the center of the spiral. And hit Mousse with all her had. For a moment, he thought it wasn't going to work, that maybe breathing fire wasn't a good substitute for battle aura after all.  
  
Then, with a frustrated roar, Mousse went flying through the branches of the trees, into the deep indigo sky. Ranma grinned for a moment, basking in the dual warmths of victory and singed clothing. Then he turned and ran back to the Amazon village. With any luck, he and Akane could be out of there before Shampoo even realized they'd come. With any luck.  
  
As he neared the Amazon village, it became perfectly obvious that luck had long since deserted him. Women were gathered in the street, watching a battle that was both loud and incredibly visible, since both combatants were practically steaming battle aura. He stopped, unsure of what to do. Akane was getting plenty of hits in, but it was obvious who was going to win out eventually. Her speed training had come in handy, and he was sure the Amazon had been shocked by Akane's new abilities. But they weren't going to be enough. She was hitting Shampoo but the purple-haired girl didn't seem to be feeling it. Her brute strength was failing her. And no wonder. Shampoo had trained hard enough over the past year to look more like a man with breast implants than a woman.  
  
"So, you beat him?" Cologne asked casually. He glanced down at the old woman standing by his side. He nodded, then dismissed the matter.  
  
"I thought you were supposed to hide her," he said, his voice unnecessarily gruff. He didn't want it to show how helpless he felt. Just then, Shampoo hit Akane in her lower abdomen . . . and her fist seemed to fly back to her as she let out a cry of pain. Ranma looked at Akane closely, there was an odd red tinge to the battle aura around her belly.  
  
"What happened?" he asked Cologne. She smiled at him mischeviously.  
  
"Oh, that was just the result of a little pill I had her take, to protect unborn children," she informed him. He frowned, more than slightly confused.  
  
"Unborn children?" he said slowly. Her grin spread.  
  
"Yeeeeees. See how that red tinge is sort of divided in half? There's a line in the middle of her abdomen where it just isn't red? That," she said with a certain amount of satisfaction, "Means twins."  
  
Ranma stared blankly at her. In fact, he continued to stare blankly at her for the next five minutes, completely missing Mousse's dramatic landing through to roof of a nearby hut. In fact, he almost missed the end of the fight.  
  
Akane kicked Shampoo in the stomach, sending the Amazon back a few feet. Instead of falling backward, she turned the momentum into a cartwheel, from which she launched into the air, flying over Akane and kicking the smaller girl soundly in the temple as she passed. Akane crumpled to the ground.  
  
"Shampoo wins!" Cologne shouted. She nodded toward her great grandchild. "Well done. Now, let this young man collect his pregnant wife," she said calmly, putting quite a bit of emphasis on the word pregnant. Shampoo wasn't listening. It's entirely possible that she didn't even hear.  
  
She glared down at Akane, and raised her hands to continue beating the blood out of her unconcious opponent. Ranma snapped out of his shocked state and began running towards them, now he could interfere and he'd be damned if he'd let her. . . but Mousse was there before he could even reach them. He towered over his wife, glowering down at her.  
  
Shampoo yelled something at him in Chinese, to which he roared in response and gestured with a rather large, furry paw back toward their hut. She shook her head violently. He roared again, flames spurting out of his gaping maw. This time, she did as she was told and stalked away from the "battlefield," with all the righteous indignation of a woman who's been told to hike her fanny home.  
  
---------------------  
  
She stayed curled in the deepest shadows of the darkened hut. He'd be coming back, her husband. He would come back with the knowledge that she'd tried to replace him. And still, still she was sure he'd want her. That was the wonderful and terrible thing about Mousse. He was always there, whether she needed him or not. She'd come to count on it since their marriage. She always told him to leave, not to look at her, not to touch her. But when all was said and done, she was secretly grateful he was there. There to beat up when she'd had a horrible day, there to confront those who made fun of her, there to take care fo her when she was sick. And he demanded nothing.  
  
As though summoned by her thoughts, his shadow fell across the doorway. But he didn't come in. He didn't move toward her. He simply stood there and stared, as if trying to memorize her features, his glasses foggy from the hot water he'd just poured on himself.  
  
"You hate me so much you'd rather be with a man you once asked me to kill," he said flatly. It wasn't a question or a reproach, just a statement of fact. "I am miserable here, tortured by you and the thought of the parts of you I can never have. Your heart, for instance," he paused, a wry smile lighting on his lips. "And it seems my presence here tortures you as well. There is enough pain in the world, there is no need to add that to it.  
  
"I am leaving," he announced, watching her face for any reaction. "And I am not coming back."  
  
With that, he left her alone. Heartbeakingly, utterly alone in the hut she'd once felt loathe to share with anyone.  
  
------------------------  
  
"I don't understand," Ranma said softly, cradling Akane's prone form to him. He felt at her temple, and was relieved to find the bone wasn't crushed. Cracked a bit perhaps, but not crushed. When he'd seen that final blow. . . he'd feared, for just a moment, that it had killed her. "How can she be pregnant?"  
  
"I expect it has something to do with your bedtime activities," Cologne said dryly. He snorted.  
  
"You know what I meant," he said. She shrugged.  
  
"Eh, it doesn't matter so much how now that it's done. If it comforts you, she isn't very far along. Not far at all. In fact, at this point it's still very common for women to lose babies."  
  
"THAT isn't comforting," he growled, putting a protective hand over the low parts of her belly. He firmly suppressed any paniced notions about diapers and 3 AM feeding. They could handle this. And if they couldn't . . . he wasn't going to think about that until they were home again. It was going to be a long journey.  
  
"I think it's time you left," Cologne announced, glancing up and down the main street of the village. The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky in the east.  
  
"She's not fit for travel," Ranma insisted.  
  
"Well, you're both going to be a lot less fit for travel if these women find out who you are. You'll have to carry her."  
  
"Carry her and both packs," Ranma sighed. This was going to be a VERY long journey.  
  
"You don't have to," a voice said behind him. Ranma turned to see Mousse, still a bit damp from turning himself back into a man. "I'll help carry some things."  
  
"We're going a long way," Ranma told him, frowning. Mousse shrugged.  
  
"So am I. Off the edge of the world, if I can find it. It won't hurt matters any if I travel with you for a bit." 


	8. A Vomiting Interlude

Disclaimer: these kooks belong to Rumiko Takahashi.  
  
Bleh.  
  
Mousse sighed, leaning against the old gnarled tree behind the Tendo Dojo. A lazy leaf, one of the last trembling remainders of autumn, drifted past his wandering eyes to land on his white coat. The weather was turning colder, but he didn't mind. He was used to it. A weary grimace caught his mouth at the thought of the last winter, spent freezing in the main entryway of Shampoo's house. It had never been his home.  
  
He wanted so very badly to forget her. So very, very badly. Once he'd acknowledged that she was bad for him, the decision to leave had been almost easy. But still, damnit, still a cold and whimpering part of him had desperately wanted her to beg him to stay. Even if she were only begging him to stay so she could trample on his soul a little more thoroughly.  
  
He could see her face even now, the beautiful face of the woman he loved. The reflections of their shared childhood were in every brown crumpling leaf, every dying blade of grass, every drifting, lonely snowflake.They hadn't gotten a good snow yet, which was just as well since he'd doubtless see her reflected from every snowbank. He missed her. He plain old missed her, like a puppy misses its mother. Which, as he was all too aware, was nothing like a healthy mindset.  
  
Oddly enough, the images of her body and face now were the easiest to banish. His lust for her was rapidly cooling in the ice of self-hate. Now, staring at the freezing koi pond, his thoughts were not full of that thick, sweet-smelling hair, those high full breasts, the long powerful muscles of her arms and legs and hips. His mind was a cradle for the images of her as a young girl, eight or nine, proud and violent already. He could still remember the day she'd beaten him, the ONLY time she'd ever beaten him, when they still had their baby fat clinging to their bones and her face had been round as a pumpkin, her purple hair shorn with a dagger because it got in her way. Her mother had cought her before she cut all of it off, so from the age of three until she turned four she looked shaggy and lopsided.  
  
She hadn't always been beautiful, but he'd always wanted her.  
  
The sounds of Akane being violently sick reached him even in the yard, and he resisted the urge to go in and check on her. He knew, from experience, that his presence was not wanted. He'd just get in Ranma's way as the pigtailed boy rushed down the hall. He'd tried to help once, when the morning sickness came. For his efforts he'd gotten knocked through a wall by the impatient husband of little Akane. Ranma apologized later, but still.  
  
Truthfully, Mousse thought the whole spectacle was incredibly amusing. The two of them danced around each other, afraid to speak for fear of screaming and shattering their fragile closeness. He could see it in their eyes when they looked at each other. The most amusing part, for Mousse at least, was the absolute look of panic almost always present on Ranma's face now. Akane was having a rather difficult pregnancy, and Mousse supposed he was afraid she'd simply break. She was six months along, almost seven, and her belly swelled like a canteloupe on her tiny frame.  
  
An image of Shampoo, round and swollen with his child, passed through his mind. He clenched his fists. He wanted this. He wanted what Saotome had, a family, a wife to cradle and protect. He wanted Shampoo, he wanted all of her, and she would never give him even the smallest part of herself.  
  
He was so, so incredibly lost.  
  
------------------  
  
"I thought morning sickness was only supposed to come in the freaking morning," Akane muttered, clutching at the rim of the toilet. Ranma hovered over her, her constant companion and, to be truthfull, annoying close and attentive caretaker. It was getting to the point that she couldn't go out to pick up something for dinner without him fussing over her like some old woman with a grandchild.  
  
How the mighty have fallen.  
  
"Yeah, well, I thought it was supposed to go away after three months," Ranma countered, not happy himself. Her frustration softened in the face of his obvious worry. How do you get mad at somebody who worries so much about you?  
  
"Some women are sick all the way through. Guess I'm one of them," she grumbled, hauling herself up from the floor. Ranma caught her elbow, helping her up. She didn't pull away, as she would have before her balance became so altered. She leaned into him, let him cradle her and the baby- or babies- in the circle of his arms. They kicked against her, and she grimaced. Ranma moved his hand to cover the tiny thudding bit of flesh, and his breath spilled into her ear, suprised and warm. He chuckled softly. Akane felt like her stomach had just crawled into one of her lungs, and the taste of bile was heavy in her mouth. She didn't feel much like chuckling at a child whose antics were bruising her from the inside.  
  
On the other hand, the kicks were a good sign. She didn't think she could bear it if she went through all this, held the child under her heart, only to have it come out . . . she couldn't bear the thought. However, her family ahd such a history of miscarriages and stillbirths. . . her father was the fifth child his mother had carried, and the second that lived to be a week old.  
  
She let him lead her to their bedroom, guide her to the bed, lay her down. He lay down behind her, his body cupping hers and his hand going once more to the ever-growing bulge of her belly. His breath raced down the back of her neck, and muscles in her lower regions that had very little to do with the baby tightened.  
  
That was the oddest thing, how much she wanted him now. Amara had warned her that pregnant women often had overwhelming sexual appetites. It was certainly true. She nestled closer to him, eliciting a deep sigh. Her body was hungry for the feel of him moving inside her, the sight of him arching beneath her with the round bulge of her pregnancy resting between them. But for now, her back hurt. Her mouth had a foul taste in it. And Ranma. . . Ranma would probably still be tired from their exertions earlier that day.  
  
So for now, drifting along the border between sleep and waking in her husband's arms, she would simply cherish the sensation of the small feet thudding against her womb. Of the steady, pulsing pressure of his heart against her back. The small, glowing realization that she held a life, maybe two lives, within her, hers alone to protect for a time.  
  
Akane drifted off to sleep in the cold light of a winter afternoon, with visions of tiny pigtailed boys dancing through her head.  
  
-------------------  
  
"Letters, letters, letters," Kasumi muttered, sifting throught the pile. "Bills, bills, bills," she corrected herself, sorting them into stacks. One stack was bills that needed to be paid immeadiately. One stack was bills which could wait- thought not for long. The last stack, the smallest stack, was personal mail. There was a letter from Nabiki-- who Kasumi missed the most when she had to sort through bills. Why, oh why couldn't she have gone to Tokyo University? Was America really that much more interesting?  
  
At least their carpentry expenses had become somewhat less severe. Ever since her baby sister got married, there were just fewer and fewer reasons for walls to fall down. Kasumi almost missed the havoc. At least when everyone else has a hellish life, she could forget about her own. It was getting far too quiet in the Tendo Dojo. Akane and Ranma weren't even fighting as much anymore. As much.  
  
She glared at all the orderly envelopes in front of her. She really, really wasn't in the mood to deal with this. The sounds of her father playing Shogi with Mr. Saotome echoed through the lower part of the house. All very well for them, they could just sit around all day. It had never bothered her before Akane got married. Now, for some reason, they all irritated her. She'd been the matron figure in teh household for most of her life, but now. . . now there was a married woman in the house, so why was she still taking care of everyone?  
  
Watching the newlyweds had thrown into sharp relief the unattained desires in her own life. She found herself longing for things she'd never wanted before, not really. It had been so fulfilling playing the mother for Akane and Nabiki. . . but now they were grown, gone to college and married, and where was she? She was left without little sisters to mother, that's where. They just weren't little enough anymore.  
  
So what could she do now? She had left her own life in shattered shards so very long ago, given it up for others for so many years, that she didn't know how to gather up the pieces. She had forgotten how to be selfish, and now there was no one who really needed her. Except herself.  
  
Restless, she turned to the stove. She could cook. . . no. Akane had said she'd cook dinner. Which meant Kasumi wanted to be far, far away.  
  
"Hey, Kasumi, why so gloomy today?" Mousse asked, coming into the kitchen. She looked up and smiled at him out of habit.  
  
"Don't be silly," she said. She peered closer at those dark blue eyes, and her smile softened. "You ought to go out and have some fun," she admonished, relentlessly declining to follow her own advice. Mousse's shoulder's drooped. What fun could there be in the world where Shampoo had grown up cold and uncaring?  
  
"I'd rather stay in today," he informed her, pulling his glasses out and pretending to study the array of envelopes. "Hey, a letter from Nabiki," he said in mock surprise. Kasumi, ever the excellent diviner of motive, pulled the letters from under his nose and swept them all into a drawer. ::I have to get Mousse out of the house, even if it's only for a little while,:: she thought.  
  
"Would you walk with me to Dr. Tofu's, then? I have to return a book he lent me, and there are so many stray dogs in this area. . ." she asked. Of course, there were no stray dogs, at least none she couldn't handle. There was, however, a rather sad and lonely teenager who badly needed handling. Need. That was a word she'd grown fond of.  
  
Of course, she had her own reasons for returning the book—which she hadn't finished reading yet—that afternoon. The antics of Dr. Tofu always cheered her up. Maybe that would be a nice way to reclaim her life . . . he so obviously needed SOMEONE, someone to tend to him when he forgot to tend himself. Of course, that wasn't reclaiming her life. That was finding a new excuse to continue in the same self-sacrificing vein.  
  
He wouldn't let her take care of him anyway. He was always so independent, so polite and distracted and odd. Half the time she spent with him he used to converse with that mock skeleton of his. It was as if he barely knew of her existence. Which was odd, since she was always cooking for him, trying to discuss books with him . . . she doubted he would ever truly, truly notice her.  
  
Which was, of course, a crying shame.  
  
------------------------  
  
Shampoo surveyed the empty house. Her gaze swept over the dirt floor, the badly kept kitchen, the pallet on the floor with its mussed sheets. The other pallet, against he other wall, neat as a pin and cold as ice. The pile of weapons by the door, worn but lethal.  
  
There was no hope for it. She was never going to be able to sleep alone here.  
  
Despite all her intentions and boasts, she found herself missing the clumsy ex-duck of a husband she'd married. The initial shock of his rejection, his first rejection of her, had sent her into fits. Screaming, violent fits. Now that she was calmer, she was beginning to notice. . . much to her dismay. . . that she wanted him to come home.  
  
Of course, he still wouldn't be able to share her bed. And what she really missed, or so she told herself, was not having to cook or clean. But she couldn't sleep, damnit, not without the steady deep rythym of his breath.  
  
So there was no help for it. She would have to go find him. And heaven help him when she did, because for leaving her. . . she wasn't sure what's she'd inflict upon him, but it would be bad.  
  
-------------------------  
  
"You know," Mousse said suddenly, breaking the slience on the way to Dr. Tofu's. "I haven't seen my mother in a long time. I ought to go visit her."  
  
Kasumi glanced at him, her eyes round. How does someone take something as precious as a mother for granted like that?  
  
"Yes, you certainly should. In your cursed form, do you think you could swim to China?" she asked, holding her tongue to keep from scolding him. He didn't need a scolding now.  
  
A slow smile spread across Mousse's face.  
  
"Probably," he said. As was always the case with Mousse, the minute the idea was in his head it played itself out through each of his limbs. He grinned at Kasumi, and settled his glasses firmly on his face.  
  
"You have been most kind, Kasumi-san, but I think the time has come for me to go. Give my regards to the lovers and the old men," he said, and then he was gone over a rooftop. Kasumi watched him go with a small smile on her face. Impetuous as always.  
  
And he'd left her to visit Dr. Tofu alone—just the way she liked it.  
  
Yes, I know Dr. Tofu has an insatiable thing for her. But how would it seem to Kasumi?  
  
By the way, thank you all for your reviews. I really appreciate them. I started writing this stuff out of a compulsion to finish the storyline, but now I write it because the fact that you actually read this just makes my day. So . . . thank you. 


	9. Attack of the Pork

Sorry it took me so long to post.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't want 'em, and none of you care either way.  
  
"Hush now, Kiyo, Yoko. It's not going to storm," Akane whispered, a protective hand going over her belly. The twins kicked her harder for her troubles. Some days she was positive they were practising katas, already preparing to take over the family buisness.  
  
She'd adamantly refused to find out whether they were boys or girls or one of each. She knew (because Amara had told her repeatedly) that ultrasounds are often wrong about such things. There were two heartbeats, that was enough for her. She knew they were going to be healthy. They were her children, Ranma's children. . . barring some defect, they couldn't help but be healthy. They'd even proven to be a bit psychic.  
  
Every time it was about to storm, they grew restless, rythmically kicking her liver to warn her. Of course, she didn't care one whit if it were going to storm or not, but the warning was a sweet gesture nontheless.  
  
Secretly, she had named them. She knew in her heart that they were both girls. Her girls. And she would teach them to fight, perhaps even to be better than their father. Wouldn't that just show him? If he were beaten by his own daughter, even Ranma Saotome would have to give up on a little chauvanism. Not that he wasn't better about that than he used to be. . .  
  
Akane shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. Of course, in her eighth month, there was no such thing. She felt every inch of her skin, tender and oversensitive, shudering every time her skirts brushed her legs or a blde of grass flicked by her ankle. Her back hurt all the time, and every so often there would be a twinge, a contortion across her stomach that made her afraid, just for a moment.  
  
The winter was passing, slowly receding into the distance while leaving the blustery winds behind. One such wind blew across her yard, rippling the waters in the pond. The tree was bare, skeletal almost, with branches wet from melted snow black against the grey sky.  
  
That was when the wall fell in.  
  
It had been so long since random destruction had stalked either her or her husband that she simply stared at the crumbled fortification for a moment. Standing in the hole was a lonely little figure, bedraggled and cold. Her clothes were just thin cotton, but she didn't shiver in the icy winds or brush her long, purple hair out of her pretty eyes. She stared at Akane across the yard with an odd glint in her eye.  
  
A storm, it seemed, had indeed come.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Ranma tiptoed around the corner, peering around it before allowing too much of himself to be seen. He was trying his hardest to avoid Akane. He did love her, and he did treasure those moments when they were laying together, when he could cradle her sleeping form and the unseen children she was about the bear him. That was just it. Her sleeping form. An awake Akane, full of all the maddening hormones pregnancy can cause, was hell on earth. She caused earthquakes over the slightest tremble of her world.  
  
He saw her before she saw him, sitting at the edge of the tea room facing the garden. She had the damn door open again, letting in the cold air. SHE, of course, insisted she was burning up while the house was actually ice cold. No wonder.  
  
He was about to tiptoe away when he saw the expression on her face. Akane looked positively stricken. She was staring at a point in the yard, without moving or blinking.  
  
That was probably bad.  
  
He strode over to stand behind her, and looked out the paper doors. Ah. Of course. Standing in the ruins of their outer wall, Shampoo was staring at Akane. She looked much like Ryouga had when he first arrived in Nerima, worn and half-mad. His chest tightened with rage at the memory of what she'd done in China, and he stepped out the back door. They'd run from the Amazon vilalge because that was her territory, and the people there were her friends. This was his territory. And she was a fool for coming to find them after what she had done.  
  
"Shampoo!" he snarled, his voice carrying clear through the brisk air. "What do you want?"  
  
"I no. . . hurt. Look for. . "she closed her eyes breifly, and placed a hand on the edge of the ruined wall to steady herself. "husband. Must find. . ." And then she fell, face first onto the grass.  
  
Akane and Ranma simply stared at her for a moment. After an akward pause, Akane stepped forward. She lumbered over to Shampoo's prone form and gently tapped her shoulder. When the Amazon didn't move, she flipped her over.  
  
"She fainted!" Akane said, in wonder. Her gaze traveled to the torn cotton chirt and the ribs poking nearly throught the skin. "No wonder, she's half-starved. Ranma. . ." she turned to find her husband was already by her side. He was frowning down at the Amazon.  
  
"I'll carry her in," he offered. He picked her up, none to gently, and carried her into the spare bedroom Happosai sometimes used. As he laid her down, Akane placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You should stay with her. I'll go make something to eat," Akane offered, as always kind even to those who had hurt her. Ranma winced and placed his hand over hers, preventing her from leaving.  
  
"No, you stay with her. I'll go make something to eat," he insisted. Akane rapped him lightly ont eh back of his head.  
  
"And what if she wakes up and decides to kill me? She said she was looking for her husband. Who knows what she means by that? You stay. You can restrain her," Akane retorted, and withdrew her hand. Ranma listened to her retrating footsteps and sighed in resignation. We who are about to die and all that, right?  
  
Shampoo, as it turned out, didn't wake up until Akane had returned, some time later, with a pot of broth, three bowls, and a plate of pork buns. Ranma helped her set down the food, but eyes it suspiciously. Thankfully, the return of Shampoo to the concious world gave him an excuse not to eat. He'd pretend to be too occupied to want food.  
  
"Have some broth," Akane ordered, seeing Shampoo's eyelids flutter. The young Amazon sat up slowly and accepted a bowl of broth from Akane. She sipped at it thoughtfully, then downed the majority of it in one gulp. She held out her bowl for more.  
  
"Shampoo hungry enough eat raw egg," she said, without the faintest trace of a smile. Akane debated about whether or nto to be offended for a moment, but then decided she had beeter things to occupy her thoughts.  
  
"Why are you here?" she asked, not half as gently as Kasumi would have. Shampoo looked at her in surprise.  
  
"I tell you already. Look for husband."  
  
"This is MY husband," Akane said firmly, taking a proprietary hold of Ranma's hand. Shampoo snorted and turned her nose up haughtilly.  
  
"I look for MY husband. Grandmother say Mousse go you. He here?" she asked, looking sharply at the young couple. With twin expressions of shock, they shook their heads.  
  
"He left to go visit his mother," Ranma informed his former fiance. Shampoo closed her eyes and flopped back on her futon.  
  
"Ai ya. All the way back to China."  
  
--------------------  
  
The problem with pork, Ranma reflected, was that it spoiled so damn easily. And the problem with pork buns was that they required pork. And the problem with weating prok buns was that stupid, no-good cooks like Akane could really, really screw up without even trying hard. And the problem with that was they could get food poisoning. Which was fine, really, a good puke will teach bad cooks to order take-out. But pregnant bad cooks with food poisoning are definitely an unfortunate breed. It sends them into premature labor.  
  
He hadn't had any, of course. Thank heaven for small favors. Very, very small favors.  
  
Or so he had found out. After carrying Akane, tiny and wretched with pains so sporadic they made her groan, across the rooftops of Nerima to the hospital he'd been informed she had food poisoning. And then, of course, there was the tiny matter of having his twins born almost a month early. Hell. Bloody, sodding, swiving hell.  
  
Which was why, ultimately, he was stuck in this godawful waiting room, in sickening shades of light blue and powder pink (colors he was rapidly beginning to hate) waiting for his wife to just give birth already and have done with it. Six hours. Six hours already.  
  
"Ranma-kun, please stop pacing," Kasumi said tiredly. Dr. Tofu was in the area apparently only doctors were allowed to see. Ranma had tried to follow him in, but Dr.Tofu had held him back.  
  
"She'll be fine, Ranma." The doctor had said. Ranma had almost punched him in the nose.  
  
"She's my wife, damnit, I have a right to see that she'd safe!" Ranma had snarled. He had no idea where those particular words came from, and didn't care.  
  
"Believe me when I tell you that if you see this, you will never look at her the same again. You want to be out here. Trust me." And with that, the doctor was gone. And Ranma had been too much of a trusting idiot to question him. Of course, he had a point. Some ten, fourteen pounds of baby matter coming OUT of . . . perish the thought.  
  
"Perhaps you should go get us something to eat, honey," Nodoka suggested. The whole gang was there in the damned waiting room. Even Shampoo, who was barely well ebough to walk on her own in Dr. Tofu's opinion.  
  
Which was wonderful. They'd have an invalid int eh house, a rather sick and irritable young mother, TWO brand-new lumps of flesh, not to mention the usual crowd. Ranma wasn't at all sure he could handly this. His nerves were fraying so fast his extremities were actually going numb.  
  
"No, I want to be here when they announce it's all over," he growled, not caring when his mother winced. He was so not in the mood for this. He wanted to hit something. Anything. Where was Kuno when you needed him?  
  
Two hours later, Dr. Tofu emerged into the waiting room, a tired but entirely satisfied smile on his face. Ranma lit up with hope when he saw his expression. He'd tried not to worry about her. . . she was so strong but her bones WERE awfully tiny. . . but she was all right. He could see it on Dr. Tofu's face.  
  
Dr. Tofu walked very gravely up to Ranma and solemnly shook his hand.  
  
"Congratulations," he smiled. "Twin boys."  
  
The room erupted into celebration all around the stunned new father, who wore and understnadably dumbfounded grin on his face. Everyone was cheering, Nodoka was practically dancing. Everyone but Shampoo. She was watching the doctor and Ranma with a deep sadness in her eyes. The only coherent thought she could form was: someday  
  
------------------  
  
"Akane!" Ranma sighed, closing the door behind him. She looked up at his approach, a soft, tired smile lighting up her face. She looked like hell. She looked like someone had beat the hell out of her. It didn't matter. It didn't matter one bit.  
  
He strode over to her bed and brushed her heair, still damp from sweat, back behind her ear. Bubbling with joy and anxiety for the days ahead, he bent to kiss her intending it only to be a small reassurance of her presence. But as always, there was a moment when they touched in which he could lose himself, and this time he didn't have the control to fight it. He kissed her thoroughly, taking his time, tasting the blood on her tongue where she'd bitten her lip. At last he pulled away.  
  
"Well, hi," Akane smiled. She shifted in her bed, and Ranma noticed for the first tiem the two tiny, sleeping forms she held, one in each arm. They were purple, and wrinkled, yawning. Hesitantly, he reached out and traced a finger down the smooth slope of one's skull.  
  
"I don't have any names for boys," Akane said sadly. Ranma laughed, a little nervously. His sons. He was a father.  
  
Oh, boy.  
  
"Me either. Doesn't much matter what we call them, does it?" Ranma asked, a little surprised. Akane rolled her eyes.  
  
"Of course it matters! Now, are you going to take one or not?" she asked crossly. Ranma looked down at the tiny bodies in her arms.  
  
"Uh-uh. I'll break it," he said blunlty. Akane glared at him, and he gulped. "Okay, okay, how do you hold a baby?"  
  
"Just support the head. At all times," she instructed. Gingerly, he picked upthe one in the arm closest to him. The tiny boy opened his eyes for just a second, then drifted off to sleep. His body was limp as a rag dolls, and Ranma knew he didn't weigh more than six pounds. Five, maybe.  
  
He was tiny, with little hairs all over and no hair where there was supposed to be hair. He was tiny and perfect, with little fingernails and toenails and pudgy little limbs. His belly was round and tight as a drum, with a massively protruding navel.  
  
Ranma felt a warm, cheerful fire burst in his belly and spread to his heart, to his lungs, and out through his mouth.  
  
"Well, hello, there."  
  
--------------  
  
My brother posted a Sailor Moon fic at or something of the sort. His name is King Seth, at any rate, which is just bad. It's bad. Oh, it's bad. But he is my kid brother, and I believe he'd be pleased as punch to get even a flamer. 


	10. Ryouga, Akari, and Shampoo's Decision

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Except the babies, that is.  
  
"I hate boys, I hate boys, I hate boys," Akane snarled, eyeing the greenish-yellow muck she was expected to clean up. Her son, Makoto, simply gurgled happily at her. All very well and good for him, he didn't have to change icky diapers. He just had to make them. She glowered at the offending region of his body, wondering how it was possible that so much waste could come from such an incredibly small person.  
  
The twins were almost three months old, now. The initial wonder of their tiny, seemingly perfect bodies wore off after a few 2 AM feedings and plenty of icky, stinking diapers. They weren't even entertaining. All they ever did was eat, sleep, and poop. That was it. And gurgle occasionally.   
  
Mocchio, the other twin, yowled from his position in the cradle beside her. Happosai's bedroom had been converted into a nursery, with all the trappings. Even the smell. The room always smelt of dirty diapers and sour milk.   
  
"I hear you, I hear you," Akane cooed, entirely unconscious of the soothing tone her voice had taken.   
  
She cleaned Makoto up and deposited him in the crib with his brother. They flailed their little arms in the general direction of each other, and Akane knew they were aware of each other's presence. She couldn't help but smile.   
  
"Shampoo help?" a voice behind her asked. Akane turned to look at the Amazon. Since the twins' early arrival, the purple-haired girl was seldom far from their sides. She was oddly tender with them, and they loved her at least as much as they loved their Grandfather Panda. Akane found the uncharacteristic kindness and softness touching, and had insisted there be no talk of Shampoo leaving their house.  
  
"Sure, if you want," she answered. She had a sneaking suspicion that Shampoo had deliberately waited until all smell of diaper had left the room before entering. Not that she'd blame her.   
  
Shampoo crossed immediately over to the crib and picked Mocchio up gently. The little blue-eyed boy gurgled at her and waved his arms emphatically. Akane watched with an odd lump in her chest. It felt oddly like jealousy, and she clamped that emotion down. She'd spent too much time being jealous of Shampoo for Ranma's sake, she certainly wasn't going to be jealous over the whimsical affections of her sons.  
  
She picked up Makoto, so he wouldn't feel deserted. For only a moment, he nestled against her, a warm pulsating lump of life. After that moment, however, he twisted and flailed. She sat down on the floor, Indian-style, and sat him down in front of her. He couldn't sit up on his own yet, but he could almost do it if she were watching to make sure he didn't fall.  
  
"I miss them, later," Shampoo said sadly, dropping gracefully to the floor beside Akane. The young mother frowned at her. Shampoo was staring wistfully at Mocchio, cradling him against her chest.  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked. Shampoo took a deep breath.  
  
"I know Kasumi have letter from Mousse," she said softly. Akane blushed and looked away. Since he plainly had no idea Shampoo was with them, they'd tried to keep his letters from her. "He still with his mother. I go find him."  
  
"But Shampoo . . ." Akane began, but stopped when she saw he tears on the other girl's face.   
  
"I have to. Never know if not go, right?" Shampoo asked, smiling a little. "Cannot watch you happiness always. Must fine own happiness." She looked up at Akane, blinking back her tears. "But I miss them."  
  
"Shampoo. . ." Akane said softly. She remembered Mousse's utter devotion to Shampoo, and nodded slowly. If Shampoo was finally willing to find out, they ought to explore what it would be to be together and happy. If he was still willing. But still. . . she was going to miss the flamboyant Amazon, complete with wall-wreaking and irritating lack of proper grammar.  
  
"Hey, when you have your own children, whenever that is, I'll bring the twins and they can be friends," she offered, smiling as brightly as she could. It was all she could think to offer. Shampoo nodded slowly, smiling back.  
  
"Sound good."  
  
-----------------  
  
The night was warm, too warm, too sweaty and hot. Ryouga downed another glass of cold sake, strictly to cool himself off. Or so he assured himself, because such assurances are needed when it's your eighth cup of sake and a rather pretty girl who is in love with you is leaning heavily on your shoulder.  
  
"Ryouga, I'm drunk," Akari announced solemnly. He traced a finger up her neck and behind her ear, making her shiver against him. Certain parts of his anatomy, strongly encouraged by the sake, reacted instantaneously. Akari blushed but didn't move away.  
  
Ryouga looked down at her, vaguely puzzled. It was only Akari. Sure, she was really nice, and he really liked her. But she was obviously in love with him, she felt obligated to marry him, blah blah blah. . . in his somber moments, it made him rather uncomfortable. In his somber moments, he was well aware of the nagging feeling that he'd cut himself off forever from Akane. However, he was not in one of his somber moments, and Akane was rather far from his thoughts. If he had thoughts at present.  
  
He felt like he was a thousand miles away from wherever his body was residing. But Akari was there to pull him back to himself, warm and reassuringly real. Solid. Her arms came up around his neck, and he was rather acutely aware of her nipples pressing into his chest. She kissed him then, pulling him down to her. She tasted of sake, and sashimi. He was only half-aware of his hands in her hair, roving through that unconquerable mass. Her lips opened to him, and his tongue plunged inside her. Exhilarating, exhilarating and reassuringly solid.   
  
He pulled away from her, but her arms around his neck kept him closer than he wanted to be. There was some reason he shouldn't do this. Some reason. Something about honor and love. He couldn't remember, and he stopped trying abruptly when Akari bit his collarbone.  
  
Rather unexpectedly, he found himself half-naked in her room, kissing her passionately—while she was a bit more than half-naked. He had to stop this. Before something happened that was irreversible.  
  
Then she looked up at him with those beautiful eyes, pouting, kiss-swollen lips whispering something he couldn't make out. He traced a finger down the line of her jaw, and smiled. He might love her. He wasn't sure, but he might. And she obviously loved him. She was right in front of him, warm and startlingly beautiful, and actually fond of the fact that he was literally a pig. A cursed man cannot ask for more than that.  
  
He kissed her again, more gently. The rest of their clothes slid to the floor as they felt their way around each other, exploring with hands and mouths. He was almost strong enough to stop. Almost. Almost strong enough to hold her at arms length, put his pants back on, and insist that they sleep off the sake. Almost. But she was riding the sensation too, and he was nowhere near strong enough in the end.  
  
They were laying on her bed, completely naked now, and Ryouga was almost at the point where he couldn't stop himself. He was about to get up. Really. Just how had he managed to get into this situation anyway? A nervous laugh erupted from his mouth, and a thousand doubts rushed through his mind. But she drew him closer, breathing in his ear as her hard little nipples rubbed across his chest.  
  
"Ryouga, take me. Please, Ryouga. Ryouga!" she whispered, and the rest of her words were lost as all blood receded from his brain to attend to more immediate matters. He was nowhere near strong enough to resist that.  
  
------------------  
  
Akane felt Ranma slid into bed beside her. She turned to him, and her hand brushed his hair. It was still damp, with little drops of cold water.  
  
"Where have you been?" she asked softly. She didn't want to admit it to him, but she'd spent most of the night desperately worried about him. He snorted and pulled her closer.  
  
"Hmm. Pajama pants? You do like to make my life difficult. I suppose I'll have to go out and get you some skimpy nightgowns," he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice. She slapped his hand away from the buttons on her top and glared at him even though he couldn't see her eyes.  
  
"Where were you?" she asked again. He sighed.  
  
"All over the rooftops of Nerima, actually. Kuno decided tonight would be a good night to chase after me and try to get information about the pigtailed girl," Ranma sighed again. "The imbecile doesn't even listen to the answers. I finally told him she was dead, just to get him to go away, and he knocked me into the canal."  
  
"Oooh, good thing Cologne reversed your curse," Akane said softly. Ranma snorted.   
  
"Yeah, lucky me. Were ya worried?" he asked. Akane was about to retort with something biting and flippant, but stopped herself in time.  
  
"Yeah, yeah I was."  
  
"Silly. I'm near invincible," he announced. Akane laughed and rolled over on top of him.  
  
"Really? I can make you nearly helpless without trying hard at all," she informed him. His hands slid under her skirt and he drew them slowly up her sides.  
  
"I don't believe you," he answered.   
  
"Was that a challenge?" she asked. She slowly, dramatically unbuttoned her shirt and threw it to the floor. Ranma, who'd seen her do that before, wasn't overly impressed. He slid his hands over her bare back and took a deep breath.  
  
"Yep," was all he had time for before she closed her mouth over his. His lips were soft but cold, still a bit damp from the canal water or perhaps the cold bath he'd taken afterwards. She ran her hands over his shoulders and chest, pleasantly surprised to find them bare. So he had taken a bath. Which meant he was only wearing his shorts.  
  
She scooted back along his legs, and he let her go without a word. She teased her mouth along his body, quick little nips of her teeth and long, light strokes of her tongue until she got to the waistband of his shorts.  
  
She sat up and pulled them off him, during which process he wiggled in what he hoped was a helpful manner. Raking her nails up and down his thighs, Akane leaned over him. A soft moan escaped his lips.  
  
Easing off of him, she slid her own pants off and made her way, using her lips, tongue and teeth liberally on his skin as she went, back up to his mouth. He grabbed her, and rolled over with her, kissing her fiercely.  
  
"You're going to lose this challenge," he said hoarsely. She ran her fingertips down his spine, and was rewarded with a shiver of pleasure.  
  
"How do you figure?" she asked, a bit husky herself. He bent to bite her hard between the breasts before answering.  
  
"If I'm helpless when we do this, so are you," he answered. She gasped as their bodies joined. In the end, he was right, they were both helpless. They fell asleep a peaceful tangle of limbs, cradled into each other.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Ryouga woke up to the rather pleasant sensation of a warm body lain across his. He opened his eyes and sat up, firmly ignoring the little man hammering away at his temples. Confusion washed over him as he saw Akari lain across him, still sleeping soundly. The first lights of. . . midday, it looked like, were slanting through the window onto her hair, and she looked beautiful.  
  
And naked. Rather naked, in fact. All his blood rushed to his face, and he scampered out from underneath her prone form, the first rushing of panic stirring within his as firmly as the blood pulsed in his temples. His mouth felt dry, a nosebleed dripping down his open lips. That wasn't the only blood, either. Some of it was drying and flaking lower down, and he wasn't comfortable with that at all.  
  
Just what the hell had happened? It looked like. . .  
  
"No, idiot, you wouldn't do that. You don't have the nerve," Ryouga told himself firmly-- and futilely. Akari stirred at his words, frowning in her sleep as she stretched.  
  
"Ryouga," she whispered, and his heart stopped. Wanting an immeadiate escape route, he poked a hole in the wall--almost without thinking-- and crab-walked out as fast as he could go. He was three miles away, still crab-walking, when he finally realized he was out in the open without so much as a sock to cover him.   
  
-----------------------  
  
Ranma woke up to the sound of crying. He gingerly extracted himself from the arms of Akane, pulled on his shorts, and headed to the nursery.  
  
Both twins were awake, and crying. Almost mechanically, he changed them both. That was enough for Makoto, who fell asleep as soon as he was placed back in his crib. Mocchio, however, had other ideas. He continued to whimper despite Ranma's best efforts. He wouldn't take his bottle, wouldn't be distracted by toys, and wouldn't be quiet at all unless Ranma were holding him a certain way. Ranma sank into a beanbag chair in the corner, cradling his son against his chest. Mocchio's head tucked right under his chin, and the tiny infant curled his legs up instinctively. Ranma smiled, stroking Mocchio's back.  
  
"One day, you and your brother will be the strongest men in the world," he whispered. "You'll know every technique I can teach you, and you'll know how to be men of honor. How to keep you word."  
  
Mocchio placed one tiny, chubby hand on Ranma's neck. It was a small gesture, and likely an unconscious one, but it made Ranma's chest tighten. Did he really have the strength to do it? To be cruel to these tiny, perfect little creatures as one must be to train a disciple? He didn't think he could do it.  
  
"Maybe you can be musicians or something," he whispered. Mocchio didn't answer, but then, Ranma hadn't expected him to. He felt odd and clumsy around his tiny sons. He sat in the dark nursery, with Mocchio warm and soft against his chest, and felt a warm swell of protective pride.   
  
Did that mean he had to make them weak?  
  
"Doesn't matter yet," Ranma whispered. He brought his knees up, so practically his entire body was curled around the sleeping infant. "Maybe I'll be less sappy in a few years, when it does."  
  
-------------------------  
  
"It was stupid, it was dishonorable, it was disgusting," Ryouga muttered to himself, once more lost in a miasma of self-doubt and angst. He was dressed again, but humilated. He could never face Akari again, never. It would be better for him if he just wandered off the edge of the planet.  
  
"What kind of a man loses control like that?" he asked himself angrily, punching a nearby tree. The tree promptly fell down, and he continued on his way.  
  
"Why am I even here?" he muttered, putting a hand against the stump of the tree he'd just killed. "I should never have come. What kind of a man . . ."  
  
He was going to say, 'comes to one woman to forget another?,' but thankfully he didn't. A twig snapped behind him, and he froze.  
  
"Ryouga?" a soft voice asked. He grimaced. the one person. . . okay, one of the several people he never wanted to see again. He couldn't look at her.  
  
"How. . . how did you find me?" he asked, because that seemed better than simply running. He wanted to run. Most of his life had been spent doing just that. The only thing restraining him was the repetitive nagging though, 'what sort of man does that to a woman and then leaves her?'  
  
"You're in the small patch of woods behind my house," she informed him. He sank to the ground in defeat. He'd thought he was so much farther away.  
  
"You ought to come inside and eat," she said, her tone as close to ordering as it ever came. His eyes widened in shock, and he slowly turned to face her. She was watching him solemnly, an odd expression for her. That quailed him a bit, but the question was already bursting from his mouth as uncontrollably as the blood flooding his face and ears.  
  
"You don't hate me?"   
  
"No, Ryouga," she sighed. "I don't hate you. I'm not thrilled about your attempts to run away from me," He winced at that. "but I don't hate you."  
  
If she didn't hate him, maybe. . . there were so many things he had to ask her, so many things he had to say. The first of them was, "Do you still want me?" He wasn't ready to ask them yet, though. The words kept dying on his tongue, he couldn't force them out. What did come out was a series of incoherent stammerings and a steadily deepening blush. Eventually he got his mouth to work properly.  
  
"I'd . . l-love to come to dinnnnner," he said, with an attempt at a smile. Inwardly, he was cursing himself. This was going to be hard enough without the betrayels of his nervous system.

Someone asked me where I got the names for the twins. I chose them at random from a list of Japanese names. I forget what they mean, but they're appropriate to the character qualities I ahd planned out for them.  
  
If you want to read about them, Ryouga's daughter, and a few other little demons when they're partially grown up, I do have a fic for that. New Nuisances. Shamless plug there, sorry.Another shamless plug: my kid brother is posting absolutely atrocious stories as king seth on this site. Maybe he only has one absolutely atrocious story. Anyway, I think it's a Sailor Moon fic, and I think he'd appreciate flames at this point. Just letting you know. 


	11. Mousse's Moment of Joy

Here, Jamieson, just like I promised. ;-p

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these malfunctioning children.

Chapter 11

Shampoo had plenty of time to think about just what she was going to do when she found him, but in the end all her plans failed her. She couldn't move. She should never have come to this place.

The tree branch under her thighs was rough and wet, the rain coming down was almost blinding. Almost. Not quite. She could still see the warm, bright yellow windows of Mousse's mother's house. She could see the black shadow of his hair as he moved around inside.

::I should go home,:: she thought. Immeadiately the little voice in the back of her head demanded, :: What home? That empty building? You have no home. You will never have a home. . . without him.::

Mousse was never her first choice, but she'd seen women made happy with far worse husbands. It was done, she was married, and she would never, ever have her own baby to cuddle against her chest if she couldn't. . . if she couldn't make him come back with her. That was all she wanted, now. A family. A happy home.

What did romantic love matter in the face of that? It was just some emotion. There are more important things. Other kinds of love.

Demands would not work. She'd thought it through, and though she cringed at the thought of asking Mousse. . . or even begging him. . . some things are more important.

"Oh dear," the old woman said, looking up from her sewing. "Whatever could that be?" The noise came again, a gentle tapping on the door. Mousse set down the knife he was sharpening.

"Maybe some traveler lost in the storm. I'll see," he announced. He stood and walked the few feet between his chair and the door. It swung open under his hand.

And there she was.

He had to be dreaming. He'd dreamt of this many times, Shampoo come to find him, to beg him to come home. He had to be dreaming. It was some other woman with dark hair whose face his mind had covered with Shampoo's features. They stood there for a long moment, silent.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, let her in!" Mousse's mother snapped. Startled, Mousse stepped out of the path of the door, and the girl walked in. She was dripping wet, soaked to the bone. She gave them both a bright smile.

"I'm so sorry to bring such a mess with me. Please forgive me, mother?" she chirped. The old woman squinted at her.

"Mother? Are you . . . Goodness, Shampoo, what are you doing here!?" the old woman cried, her eyes wide in shock. Shampoo glanced at Mousse.

"I have come for my. . . husband," she said softly. Mousse's heart skipped a beat. She'd come for him? Was she. . . no. Not a chance. The Ice Princess would never love anyone, not truly.

"Well, and it was about time!" Mousse's mother smiled. "I was beginning to think you got lost!"

"Mother! You knew she was coming!" Mousse said accusingly. "You might have warned me!"

"Don't be silly, son. An Amazon woman always comes for what is hers. Go fetch some warm clothes for your bride," she commanded. Mousse smiled and complied, recognizing her offer to eavesdrop. The walls of his mother's home were VERY thin, and anything said in any part of the house could be heard in the others.

"I have not seen you in years, child. Where have you been?" his mother asked.

"Japan, mostly. That's why you can see my ribs, bad Japanese food," Shampoo said, and they both laughed. ::Har de harr harr harr,:: Mousse thought, ::Get to the relevant part.::

"But after your marriage? Where. . .?"

"Oh, well, Mousse and I lived in my village for a time. I was not. . . kind to him. Can you forgive me?" Shampoo asked.

"It depends on whether or not he does."

"I. . . see. Well, after he left, I . . . I missed him. I regretted what I'd done to him, and decided to follow him to Japan. By the time I got there, the people he left China with told me he'd already come back here to you. So. . ."

"Ah. So, you have been staying with Ranma and . . . what is her name again?"

"Akane. Mousse told you about them?"

"Oh, yes. The girl was expecting, wasn't she?"

"She's given birth to twin boys," Shampoo answered, a little primly. Mousse heard someone, presumably his mother, clapping her hands. ::Twin boys, Saotome? Your luck is unbelievable!:: Mousse thought, growling softly.

"How fortunate! Was that why you stayed, to see what fruits your friend bore?"

"No . . . she went into labor soon after I arrived. I stayed there because I fell in love with the twins. They were such sweet babies. Also, I. . . I was ill, when I arrived at their house. It took me some time to regain my strength," Shampoo half-whispered the last part. Ill? Shampoo, ill? It boggled the mind. He couldn't remember the last time she was sick.

Feeling he'd heard enough, Mousse carried some of his own thick, warm robes out to Shampoo. Excusing herself, she went to go warm up. Mindful of the thin walls, Mousse and his mother kept their silence until she returned.

"Thank you so much," Shampoo said, bowing. She sat down between Mousse and the fire. "Has. . . has it stormed quite a bit in this region recently?"

"Oh, heavens no, child. This is the first storm we've had in months. Now, when I was as young as you two scamps, there was a whole five-year period where the sky was nothing but grey. Rain, rain, every day. Now, on the day I married my first husband—you would have loved him, the both of you, he had the soul of a poet—that was the day the rain stopped. People for miles around said we were a couple blessed by heaven. Maybe so. Until the day he was killed by that wild boar, we. . . In any case, it was a blessed marriage. I had six children with that man, every one a great warrior, every one married and happy with lots of children." She smiled at Mousse, but her eyes were far away.

"Your father and I only had you. . ." she said, half-dreaming. She shook her head as if to clear it. "But I'm old and just rambling. It's too late for me to be awake," she smiled, standing up and going back to her room. Mousse knew better. His mother rarely slept at all, usually he was in bed long before her.

"She hasn't changed much," Shampoo noted. Mousse smiled at her. He liked the way his clothes looked on her, and it was so good to hear her voice! He'd tried to forget her, tried to drive her out of his mind, but he couldn't.

Maybe it was just fate.

"No," Mousse agreed, "She doesn't ever change much." He was using all of his control to resist throwing his arms around her and begging her to stay with him. "Tell me about Akane's baby. Did it come out healthy?" he asked, feigning ignorance. Shampoo smiled softly, her eyes far away.

"She had twins. Two little boys with tufts of blue hair, just like their mother. They have blue eyes like Ranma, but that doctor with the funny glasses said the eye color of babies can change. She named them Mocchio and Makoto," Shampoo grimaced, making a face at the foreign sounds. "I told her they weren't good-luck names, but she ignored me."

"Didn't Ranma have anything to say about the names?" Mousse asked.

"Oh, he was a complete mess. He couldn't have chosen a name just then if his life depended on it," Shampoo snorted, dissaproval written on her features. Mousse remembered how frantic Ranma got when Akane had morning sickness, and he could just picture the pigtailed boy in a hospital waiting room.

Shampoo looked up at him shyly, and his heart skipped a few beats.

"Did you. . . did you miss me?" she asked, her voice as timid as he'd ever heard it. This wasn't Shampoo! Shampoo never acted like this! He'd always wanted her to, but she never had. . . and now. . .

"I didn't want to. I wanted to forget all about you," he sighed and gave her a half-smile. "I couldn't."

"Do you think. . . maybe you could come home with me?" Shampoo asked, a little less timidly. Mousse felt the blood rush to his face.

"I. . ."

If he went back with her to the Amazon village, would everything be like it was before? Would she go back to the way she was? He couldn't live with that, just couldn't. But then, what if this was his only shot? What if he said no and she walked out into the storm, never to return?

"I. . . ." Years of tradition raced through his brain, the odd paradox of the man in the Amazon society. He had to be strong, but he had no worth. He had to be honorable, but he had to concede his honor if it interfered with the honor of a woman. All Mousse wanted was to be happy. To . . . "Yes, I'll come back with you," he said quietly.

"Oh, Mousse!" Shampoo cried, launching herself at him and throwing her arms around his neck. He sat stunned for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her waist, burrying his face in her hair. She smelled like rain and woodsmoke, and she was his. Shampoo was finally his.

If he wasn't just dreaming, the world was surely about to end.

"You have got to be kidding me," Akane groaned, staring in horror at the small strip of plastic in her hand. "Not again!"

But there it was, the little red stripe that meant she was in for another nine months of absolute hell.

She'd bought the pregnancy test at the supermarket. It was Amara's idea, actually. She went back to work at the nursery as soon as the twins were old enough to come with her—just until they got more students in the dojo, of course. Ranma was working on recruitment and classes while she was gone, and he'd had some success. He had four pupils already, which was more than her father had had in the last ten years. They weren't terribly serious about the Art, but they did pay their fees on time. Not that their fees would be enough. Babies are enourmously expensive little creatures.

And she was going to have another one.

Anger mounting inside of her at the injustice of all of it, she threw the pregnancy test in the bathroom trashcan and stormed out. She strode down the hall to where Ranma was trying to "baby proof" the kitchen. He was standing in front of the sink, frowning at a bottle of bleach when she blew in like a cold wind.

His face, when he looked up at her, was decidedly apprehensive. She was probably glowing blue. Of course, that kind of thing hardly mattered.

"One of us, and I don't know WHO, is positively ABNORMAL!" she screamed. He blinked at her.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm on freaking birth control, so ONE or BOTH of us is a freak. Freakishly fertile."

"WHAT are you talking about?"

"I'M PREGNANT!" she screamed, balling her fists and screwing her eyes up like a child throwing a tantrum. "AGAIN!"

"You're. . ." he stammered, an odd look coming to his face. It was a seemingly impossible mixture of horror and joy. It's odd how often those two words are used together to describe parenthood.

"PREGNANT!" Akane shouted again, then stormed out to the dojo. She needed to break some things, and cinderblocks are much easier to replace than bones.

Ranma watched her go, not entirely certain how to take that news. Obviously, she was upset about it. But the twins were wonderful! Sure, they were a pain sometimes, but they were so cute and sweet that you just had to forgive them.

On the other hand, he remembered Akane's pregnancy with a shudder. Nine months of hormonal hell again? WITH the added stress of having two small boys in the house?

Ranma turned back to the problem he'd been wrestling with when she came in. After a few moments, he gave up. He just couldn't keep his mind focused.

"Aww, man, why can't she just start knitting some little booties or something and tell me to expect a 'bundle of joy,' like a normal woman?" he grumbled. Something hard and sharp hit the back of his head.

"I HEARD that!" Akane hissed behind him. He listened to the sound of her retreating footsteps and sighed.

"Maybe I should go visit Akari, see if Ryouga has showed up yet. Yeah, that could take about nine months."

"I'll cook tonight, Kasumi," Akane said brightly, stepping into the kitchen. Kasumi turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.

"Well, all right. I was going to tell Father to order take-out, but I suppose that works too," she mused. She dunked another dish into the soapy water, which was just getting cold. She wondered if Akane notcied that the dishes on the "dirty" side of the sink were all sparkling clean. She wondered if they realized how much work she'd invented for herself since the advent of the relative peace in their house.

That was going to stop, and soon. She wasn't going to waste her time anymore.

"Oooooooh, do you have a date?" Akane asked, sounding for all the world like a thirteen-year-old girl. Her younger sister grinned at her, an odd glint in her eye. "With Dr. Tofu?"

::As if he even knows I'm interested,:: Kasumi thought.

"No, I'm taking a few classes at the community college. My pottery class is tonight," she replied.

"That's great, sis, but why didn't you tell any of us? I mean, why'd you keep it secret?" Akane asked, looking a little confused.

::Because I feel like a ghost here, invisible and unimportant,:: Kasumi thought.

"Secrets are fun!" she smiled, winking at her younger sister. Akane smiled back.

"Well, what other classes are you taking?" she asked, picking up a towel and drying the dishes Kasumi had set to the side fo the sink.

"Well, that pottery class, and a writing class this semester. Next semester I might take something a bit more challenging," she said. "You know, you should take some of the cooking classes they offer."

::So I can move out and not worry about everybody dying of food poisoning,:: she thought, but she couldn't find it in her heart to say it.

"You're right, I'll look into that," Akane promised. "Do you want me to tell Dad and Saotome-san where you are?" Kasumi thought about that for a moment.

"If they ask," she said at last, shrugging. Who cares what the old men think?

"Hey, where is everybody?" Ranma wondered, shifting Mocchio from one hip to another. He walked into the kitchen, and suddenly he knew exactly where everyone had gone.

Away from Akane's cooking.

Maybe he could just sneak out the back and take Mocchio for a little walk. . . .

"Ranma!" Akane yelled, "Could you come in here for a minute?"

::Too late, I've been spotted,:: Ranma thought, taking his infant son with him into the war zone.

"Where did you put the knives?" she asked him. He took a moment to survey the scene in the kitchen. There were dirty dishes everywhere, an a frightening green smoke was coming from the pot on the stove.

"Akane, do you really think you should eat your cooking? I mean, it's probably not good for the baby," Ranma said, relying on the fact that he was holding Mocchio to save him an airborne trip across Nerima. He was right. Akane glared at him, but she didn't hit him. She didn't even yell, for fear of scaring the baby.

::Babies can be useful, after all. They're like little fleshy sheilds,:: he thought.

"For your information," she started out haughty, but a smile was wobbling at the corners of her mouth and it gave her away—" I am a WOOOOOONDERFUL cook, and you are going to love this."

"Are you feeling okay?" Ranma asked, unable to keep the note of derision out of his voice. She turned away from him, unable to keep from smiling any longer.

"I'm fine. Why don't you go put Mocchio in his swing? That always puts him to sleep. Where's Makoto?"

"In the swing, alseep."

"Oh," Akane thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "I guess you can put him in the crib and Mocchio in the swing. Come down when they're both out," she said.

Ranma resigned himself to a night of throwing up and went into the twin's room to out the baby down. It was kind of late for Mocchio to be up anyway, so he dropped right off. Ranma made sure they were both asleep in their crib, which was rapidly getting too small for them, and went back downstairs.

"Thank you, have a safe trip back!" Akane was calling out the door as he walked by the entrance. She was holding two boxes of food.

"Take-out?" he asked, and she jumped, nearly dropping the boxes. She giggled a little nervously and handed him one. "That's cheating, Akane!"

"I wasn't going to tell you I made it. You wouldn't believe me if I tried to convince you I could make yakisoba taste this good," she said flippantly. He pointed at the ktichen, a little confused.

"But, the green smoke. . ."

"I never had any intention of cooking dinner tonight. I just. . . wanted everybody out of the house," she admitted. Realization dawned on his features, followed by the type of grin usually saved for bedrooms and other secluded areas.

"I thought you were mad at me," he admitted.

"I was. But I thought about it, and really, it's probably something I did. Missing pills or something. I mean, that's what happened last time," she informed him. He nodded.

Never let it be said that parenthood doesn't make people more mature.

"So . . . you had plans for tonight?" he asked, a mischevious glint in his eye. Akane giggled, taking his free hand.

"Oh, yes. Lovely plans. Would you like to hear about them? Or should I surprise you?"

Author's note: Thank you all so much for reviewing this hunk of junk. I'm trying to write my own stories now, that's why I don't update much. I only updated this because my friend made me. I have some deep blather to say now, so I'll understand if you want to just close the window.

I was thinking this morning about . . . writing, I suppose. It occurred to me that we cannot write about things we have not at least wished for, dreamt about. Want is the mother of possession, after all. I would wager that most of what is written on this website, and in more conventional places like books, is really the author's way of trying to put some part of their life into perspective. To set something in focus. To. . . rid themselves of the demons lurking in their minds, or the dreams they've held dear but never voiced aloud. Here they would be funneled through other people's characters, other people's dreams.

Take this story for example. There is a real nursery up the road from my house, where I worked in high school, and there is a real woman named Amala from whom I acquired most of my more deviant carnal knowledge. The story about the dog and the cock ring? Really happened. There's a real pool near here where one of my more desirable male friends, a lifeguard, wreaks havoc on the hearts of younger women. There are real babies passing through my arms and through my heart . . . from that nursery.

The odd thing is that most of the time, the people who are written about are active people, people who live completely in the real world, people of action. It's odd because most people who write and read a lot don't live in the real world most of the time, are people of thought, not action. Is it some desire to be something we are not?

Yet, we cannot live completely in our own worlds, because otherwise, what would we write about?


	12. Over All the Living and the Dead

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue

I'm sorry it took so long to post, but I thought I already had this chapter up. This is it, folks, for further adventures read the next story.

Chapter 12

All she had ever wanted, all her life, was to be a wife and a mother, and make people happy.

It wasn't much of a dream, but it was something to think about in the rare quiet moments of her life. Now the rare moments were happening all the time, and the opportunities to think simply abounded.

It was driving her mad. All her life, all she had wanted. . . . it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. How could she have dreamt such a simple dream and had it fail? The impossible dreams of her father came true with the marriage of Akane and Ranma, and the impossible dream of Mousse came true—sort of. If Shampoo had found him, they'd come true.

She'd never been foolish enough to dream of anything extravagant, no fairy tale romances or anything like that. . . Prince Charming only ever came for Akane.

An irrational rage filled her, and she paused. It wasn't fair, really. She could clean, she could cook, she was sweet and kind and patient. Some people even thought she was pretty. Yet, no matter how sweet she was, life just skated right past her and slammed into her baby sister. What had Akane ever done to deserve so much adoration? She was a kind-hearted girl, and honorable. She knew exactly what Ranma saw in Akane, and what Ryouga had seen in her. . . but what did everyone else see? Surely the whole world didn't want violent tomboys?

::Stop thinking evil thoughts about your sister,:: Kasumi told herself firmly. She resumed walking, only to pause again in a few steps. As always, her evening walk home had taken her by the Tofu clinic. Warm yellow light spilled from his windows onto the grey sidewalk. She wondered what he was doing in there. What he was thinking of. Who he was thinking of. If he ever, ever thought of her.

Kasumi walked on, a frown on her usually placid face. She knew very well that half the single men in Nerima would love to take her out. The problem was, they all bored her. Every last one of them made her want to snore. The only one that captured her interest—and perhaps a bit more than that—was completely oblivious to her existance. He ignored her half the time when she was standing right in front of him, babbling on with that ridiculous skeleton of his.

She didn't know, couldn't have known, that at that exact moment he was staring at the many pictures he'd taken of her, wishing . . . wishing he could just talk to her with a straight face. . .

--------------

"Wife," Ryouga tried the word out, trying to imagine himself referring to Akari like that. It sounded wooden on his lips. "Honey," he tried. Too simpering. "Darling." Yes, Darling was just right. Or maybe Dear? "Dear." Nope, too short.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling completely naked without his bandanna. On the other hand, he would have felt rather foolish in a formal wedding outfit and a bright yellow bandanna. Besides, Akari wouldn't have like it if he showed up to their wedding feeling foolish. She was already a little bundle of nerves. That might have something to do with the pregancy, but he suspected it had more to do with the wedding.

He wasn't sure he wanted this, and he knew he didn't want it so soon. He wasn't ready to be a husband, much less a father. He ddin't even really know how he felt about Akari, it was all a muddled mess in his head. All he wanted was to run into the woods and figure it out. On the other hand, he was a man of honor. He'd answer for his actions. He woundn't run away from this, wouldn't desert her. Not now. Not after what he'd done to her.

She was as affectionate as ever, and seemed sort of happy to be getting married to him. It was what she'd wanted, after all. But sometimes he'd see her staring out into the forests, her eyes empty and unfocused. Maybe she felt the same way he did, as though she were a puppet somehow.

"Come on, Ryouga," a deep voice outside called. Ryouga winced. He'd never known Akari had so many distant relatives. The man outside was one of her many second cousins, one of many big, burly men without a neck. They'd made it quite clear the night before that if he bolted, they'd hunt him, skin him, and use his skull for a candy dish. He'd laughed at them, confident he could outrun them, if not beat them all at once. But the fact that they'd felt it nessecary to threaten him was insulting.

"Get lost, Gohan," he called back, almost snarling.

"You're the one who'll get lost if I don't walk you to the altar. Wouldn't want you wandering around on your wedding day," the voice called back. Ryouga took a deep breath and counted to ten. He was right, of course.

"Nothing ever goes the way I want it to," Ryouga whispered, opening the door so he could go face his fate.

---------------

"Nothing ever goes the way I want it too," Akane sighed, looking at the cake she'd tried to make. Cake might be too strong of a word. Maybe lump of dough would work better.

"What's that? Cookie dough?" her husband asked, coming up behind her and snaking an arm around her growing waist. She sighed and leaned back into him.

"Don't be such an idiot, Ranma," she muttered, but her voice held none of its usual anger. ::Maybe I should just admit I can't cook and give up,:: she thought, dejectedly. ::Maybe I should just . . . make RANMA cook.:: A wicked thought passed through her brain and she smiled. "Actually, I was going to make that for dinner," she continued. His grip on her tightened slightly, and she felt his battle aura flare in preparation for the fight.

Except this time, they weren't going to have a fight. At least, not one he'd notice. More of a contest of wills, and she had practically won already. ::Shampoo must have rubbed off on me, this would never have occurred to me before the twins were born.::

"Wh-what IS it?" he asked, gulping mid-word. She smiled beatifically as she turned around to face him.

"Silly, it's dough for potstickers!" she explained, throwing her arms around his neck. He raised an eyebrow at the red and brown lump in the pan, and gulped.

"A-Akane, you aren't supposed to cook those like that. . . ."

"Don't be silly, Ranma. You just go watch the boys and leave dinner to me," she said, releasing him and pushing him gently toward the door. Ranma frowned at her, then a thought passed over his face. She actually saw it, a jolt of realization.

"Oh, honey, don't be silly," he said, his voice soft. He strode back over to her and took her hand. "You've worked too hard lately, you need a break. Why don't YOU go play with the babies while I make dinner?"

It was just like she'd put the words into his mouth manually.

"If you insist," she said brightly, sailing out of the kitchen. Anything is better than perpetual failure. She'd try again. . . later.

--------------------

The months passed, time unable to give happiness any respite from its steady march. Ryouga grew to love the sight of Akari's face in the morning, the smell of her hair all around him. He grew to love the quiet moments spent just sitting together, and the tiny jumps of her flesh that came later, when the baby assaulted her from the inside.

"Mr. Hibiki, can you hear me?" a voice asked over him. The floor beneath his feet was a sick shade of yellow, tiled and then, apparently, washed with urine. Just your standard issue for a country hospital. He wondered if there was an herb garden out back.

He remembered the first time Akari had let him feel the tiny kicks and punches. A healthy baby, she'd said, smiling as she guided his hand over the hemisphere of her torso. Her eyes had been bright with exitement, seeming almost to sparkle. He loved it when she looked like that. It meant she was happy. It meant he hadn't failed her.

"Mr. Hibiki, please answer me."

These idiots, they didn't know anything. He probably knew more about doctoring than these people. He ought to have just kept her at home, let her aunt take care of her. Or someone. A midwife or something. Anything would have been better than this place, with the urine-washed floors and the glaring flourescent lights. He'd failed her. He'd promised to keep her safe, and he'd failed.

"Mr. Hibiki, if you don't answer me, I'm going to start treating you for shock. Do you hear me?"

It was all his fault. If he hadn't had any sake that night, none of this would have happened.

"I can hear you," he muttered, rising to his feet. The orderly in front of him paled a bit, taking a half step back. ::Yeah, I'd be afriad to tell me news like that too,:: Ryouga thought.

"What are you going to do?" Akari's grandfather asked. Ryouga's lips thinned as he thought it over. He thought about the ranch house, empty now. He thought about sleeping all alone in the bed he'd shared with Akari.

"Leave," he whispered. Akari's grandfather opened his mouth to protest, tears streaming down his wizened face. Ryouga cut him off with a wave of his hand, not caring if the old man was being ripped apart. It was cruel, and he knew it, but just at that moment he couldn't care about anything. He felt as if all the blood in his veins was turning to ash. "It was my wife, and it's my child."

-----------------

Ranma let the letter flutter to the floor, his hands suddenly feeling numb.

"Oh, Ryouga," he whispered, running his hand through his hair. He couldn't even begin to imagine what the lost boy was feeling. And the contents of the letter were decidedly disturbing, in more ways than one.

"Ranma? What's wrong? You look like your best friend just died," Akane asked, stepping into the room, belly first. He looked at her, unable to avoid imagining her face pale and lifeless after reading Ryouga's letter. Shuddering, he bent and handed her the wrinkled paper.

"Ranma and Akane," she began, reading it out loud. "I am writing to inform you that my daughter, Yori, and I will be imposing upon you. Akari and I got married a few months back due to her pregnancy – that scoundrel!" Akane paused to grin at her husband. Ranma just motioned her to read on. "And now that she is gone, I cannot return to. . .oh," she said, her voice suddenly very small. She looked up at Ranma, her eyes watering.

"He's coming here," Ranma said, his voice wooden. "And he's traveling with a newborn baby."

"You HAVE to go get him, Ranma, the baby will die if he wanders with her for too long," Akane said firmly. He blinked at her, his eyes involuntarily going to her protruting stomach.

"But you're due any week now!" he protested. She shook her head.

"I'll be just fine, Ranma. Would you get going?"

"I'm worried about you, idiot! How can you ask me to leave you at a time like this? What if something happens!" he shouted, glaring at her. She put her hands on her hips and glared right back.

"I'll be fine, Ranma. I've done this before, remember?"

"Read the rest of the letter, dimwit. That's how Akari died! Complications! What if something goes wrong?" he shouted, practically screaming in her face now. She took a half step back, her face grim.

"Well, then I guess I'll just hang around haunting you and making sure you don't do anything STUPID! This is more important!" she shouted back.

"NOTHING is more important!" he replied. They stood there for a moment, him glowering as a slow blush spread over Akane's cheeks. She looked at the letter in her hands, then back up at her seething husband.

"We'll ask someone else to go find him. Dr. Tofu, maybe," she suggested. He nodded, only a little tension going out of his body. She touched his cheek hesitantly, leaning in closer to him. "But you know I'll be fine," she insisted, looking into his cornflower eyes. He swallowed hard and gulped.

"I just. . . I can't leave yet, Akane. But you're right, someone does have to go after Ryouga. We'll ask the doctor, and if he can't, we'll ask our dads. We should get going, I guess," he grumbled, gruff as an old bear. She kissed him, then began to pull away only to find herself locked in a desperate embrace.

The words echoed in her head, ::Nothing is more important.::

------------------

Dr. Tofu sighed and leaned against a tree. How the hell was he supposed to find someone who didn't know his own location? Knowing Ryouga, by the time Akane and Ranma had even gotten that letter he could have been halfway to China.

"Hell, this place IS halfway to China," he muttered, glowering at the trees around him. ::Just think of it as a training trip, old boy,:: he thought to himself. ::You've gotten soft in your old age.::

"Reaaaaally soft," he muttered out loud, starting to walk again. "Maybe there's some sort of meditation training I can do to Kasumi-proof my brain."

---------------------

It was raining. Of course it was raining. It ALWAYS rains when someone arrives in Nerima. Ryouga wished, fervently, that he'd been able to get rid of his curse. As it was, he'd traveled these last few weeks entirely helpless, a baby in one hand and an umbrella in the other. He couldn't risk getting wet and being unable to take care of Yori, even if it was just a short period of time.

She didn't even look quite human yet, still sort of wrinkled and covered all over in fine white hairs. Heck, she wasn't even old enough to support her own head. He'd gone through hell because of this child, washing cloth diapers in a mountain stream while trying desperately not to get wet. Keeping track of the goat he had trailing behind him, to provide his baby with food. If only she were bigger. If only she were stronger.

If only he knew more about infants!

The long haul was almost over, though. He was almost someplace where his daughter would be safe. That was all he could ask for, now, now that he'd failed Akari.

The streets of Nerima, cold and grey in the rain, had never looked more inviting.

-------------------

"You know, I've been thinking," Akane said, slowly. She was sitting on the floor of the tea room, watching Ranma struggle with making rice balls and feeding her baby girl. Ayame. The name just seemed to roll off her lips. It was a flower's name, a flower that represented purity, and strength. The twins were playing on the floor nearby, trying to determine who could stack little wooden blocks the highest. So far, Makoto was winning, but Mocchio was getting mad enough to knock down his brother's attempts out of spite.

"We might try recruiting at the universities. You know, for the dojo classes?" Akane suggested. Ranma grunted, preoccupied with his cooking.

"The students might be interested in it as a fitness sort of thing, if nothing else. . ." she conintued. A loud knock on the door startled her out of finishing her sentence. Her eyes met Ranma's for just a moment, before he sighed and put down the rice ball he was making.

"I'll get it," he muttered, walking out of the tea room. He padded down the hallway in his bare feet. Three years ago, he would have had to assume it was some sort of delivery man, or a kid selling stuff door to door. Back then, he hadn't known anyone who actually used doors. Now, it could be anyone. One of Akane's friends from work, one of Kasumi's friends from the University. It used to be that everyone in Nerima focused on him, his life, his problems, because his life was a series of explosions and poison epidemics. But no longer. Now it was like the world had forgotten he existed.

Thank goodness.

He opened the door, and felt the words of welcome freeze on his lips.

Ryouga stood just outside the doorway, holding a baby in one hand and an umbrella in the other. He looked haggard, his eyes were sunken back into his head. He was scrawnier than Ranma remembered him. But the baby was fine, she was waving her tiny little fists and making insistant noises at her father.

Was that a goat behind them?

"I guess this is still the only place on Earth I can find," Ryouga said, gruffly.

"Ryouga. . ." Ranma cast about in his head for something to say. What do you say to a man who's lost his wife? What do you say to a friend you haven't seen in years? What do you say to the hungry man standing outside your door?

That one he knew.

"Come in, come in. Here, I'll take the baby. We'll get her a warm bath," Ranma said, taking the little bundle of flesh from Ryouga's arms. The lost boy smiled a wry smile, and shooed the goat out into the yard before following Ranma into the house. "I'm just working on dinner now. It should be ready soon, but there's probably something in the fridge. We'll see, eh?"

"You do the cooking?" Ryouga asked. Ranma looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"You don't think I'd let her do it, do you?" he said. Ryouga laughed, a small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. It was unnerving, to insult Akane in front of him and just hear him. . . laugh.

"Akane! Ryouga made it!" Ranma cried out. Akane came out of the tea room, holding Ayame in her arms. Her face lit up when she saw the lost boy and she gave him a warm one-armed hug.

"We were so worried about you! We even sent out Dr. Tofu looking for you," she smiled. Ryouga blinked at her, a light pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

"R-really?" he stammered. Akane nodded, then caught sight of the baby Ranma was holding.

"Is this your daughter?" she asked. Ryouga cleared his throat and nodded.

"Her name is Yori," he announced.

"She's beautiful, Ryouga! And I bet she's cold, too," Akane grinned, taking Yori from Ranma. "This one's ours, her name's Ayame. There are two more in the tea room." She rolled her eyes. "Absolute terrors. You two get something to eat, I'll go give the girls a bath," she said. Then she was gone, cooing to the two babies on her hips. Ranma noticed Ryouga watching her steps, and cleared his throat.

"Come on, man, food in the kitchen, right?" he said. Ryouga nodded, dumbly, and followed Ranma into the kitchen. "She hasn't changed much, has she?" Ranma asked, trying to break up the silence.

"Motherhood agrees with her," Ryouga said, quietly. He gazed at Ranma with hooded eyes. "You're lucky, Saotome."

Three years ago, he would have denied that.

"Yeah. Yeah I am. Here, there's . . . green stuff Akane made last week, let's throw that away. We have some takoyaki, and some sobe noodles. What are you in the mood for?"

By the time Akane came back with the baby girls, the twins were all over Ryouga, tugging at his hair and clothes. He wrestled gently with them on the floor, laughing as they tried to punch him with their little chubby fists. Akane's heart softened to see him watching his strength like that. Akari must have softened him. . .

"Hey, there, Ryouga," she said, and he looked up at her, grabbing both boys around the waist and holding them still. "Yori's all clean and warm and fed. I was going to put her to sleep, but. . ."

"I'll do it," Ryouga said. He stood and put the twins on the ground, ignoring them when they attatched themselves to his ankles. He took his daughter from Akane, and Ranma watched from the opposite doorway as his one time rival's eyes lingered on the face of his wife.

This could be a problem. Not for him, for Ryouga. He'd really hate to have to beat the lost boy up again. On the other hand, it would be just like old times.

"There's a rocking chair in one of the upstairs bedrooms. It's where I put your stuff," Ranma interjected. Ryouga looked up at him, and a grateful smile creased his face.

"Thanks. Could you. . . ah. . . show me which one?" he asked. Akane giggled, and Ayame giggled with her. She watched as Ranma led Ryouga by the sleeve up the stairs, both of them ignoring the toddlers that had wrapped themselves around Ryouga's calves.

So much had changed.

The rain continued to fall, all over those who were lost, and those who were lonely, and those who did not begin to understand themselves. It fell over Ukyou's empty shop, where she determinedly made okonomiyaki after okonomiyaki, trying to improve her recipe. It fell over the Kuno estate, where madness was currently perpetuating itself though a sibling rivalry that involved more automatic weaponry than most wars. It beat against the window of a coffee shop, where Kasumi Tendo sat wondering just what she was supposed to do now. It fell over the Tendo Dojo, a place where loss and chaos had reigned for more than ten years. When the storm broke, the first ray of light that burst through the clouds floated down through the window of the bedroom where the lost boy sat holding his daughter, dreaming of futures forgotten and pasts incomplete.


End file.
